you’re just a body, I can smell your skin
April/Tammy 1, Icarus. 100 words.
The girl’s got something in her that you like, something of a bite (and a sharp, sure one at that) to her smile. A chip on her shoulder, they would say, not seeing how bright she is under pressure, under desks, under foot. The girl’s got something that you want, if you’re honest, and you always are (when it suits you). You might even like her, with her mousy hair and permanent frown, and that’s a strange feeling, one you aren’t used to feeling about someone who could, in a few years, take you on. And maybe, just maybe, win.
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