She sat,slouching over the hard-solid desk of her second period class. Her hands placed across the desk and was cold and discolored. And the only thing that didn't vanish from her mind was the thought of the boy she fancied, holding her hands to transfer the warmth,and maybe more. The bell rung, not to end the class, but to begin.
The class was a fairly large size. Inappropiate notes were being pass around from student to student. This was unnoticed to the eagle-eye teacher,who was at the back of the room, feeling the sugar rush from his morning caffienated drink. He muttered the words of the power point under his breath hoping that just one student was listening to his lecture. She stared at the clock, her heart rhythum was in synch with the running hand.Exactly sixty beats per minute. Perfect, she thought. Distant running had paid off. It was 9. She would be still asleep if her aunt hadn't pulled her small,but strong body out of bed. Tick Tock, the clock continued.
She could not learn today. She just couldn't. The voices, and movements blurred her sensory motions. Her hearing and sight distorted in a europhoria feel. Her senses were lost. She indeed was not high. The girl stared into the open space of the room. A funny, dreamy feeling came across her chest from below. She loved that feeling. A smile brought onto her face suddenly. Her smiled could not be caused by the teachings of history and an awkward face of appeared from a classmate up ahead when she look up and saw what she seen.
The face of him came across her mind again. She couldn't let go. Every increment of life, every vibration of sound, every nausance of taste implied him.
What can she do? Of course she was deeply attracted to him.
In her happy thought she pictured him as exactly as he was. Perfect.
He was cauausian. White. Her exact type. She did not care if people called her picky. He seem to be everything she sketch for a lover.
With a slimmer but tall build he stood onto her thoughts. This person was no longer a boy of curiousity and mistakes, but a man. And what a man when others tored their eyes onto him. Blond facial hair flowered across his fair skin and she dreamed of scratching her face to it. It would arouse her deeply. His hair grew longer and she got the urge to comb it with her short tiny fingers.
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the diary of houa vue
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