Tessa Bridges

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Dancing, spinning, whirling, skipping Tessa Bridges treated living without ever thinking. Knowledge floated away, ideas became garbage inside Tessa’s dizzy laughter. Tessa’s mother, gentle woman, ever thinking, dismayed because Tessa never listened.

“Mother,” Tessa laughed, “English only becomes troubled people!” Alas, because Tessa never wondered about troubles, English never became something Tessa studied.

Tessa’s father, burly, wondering, dismayed because Tessa never wandered.

“Father,” Tessa tittered, “wandering only becomes searching people!” Alas, searching became tiring, even father agreed.

Tessa’s sister, silly, gorgeous, dismayed because Tessa never talked about living.

“Sister,” Tessa simpered, “talking only becomes unsure people!” Alas, Tessa disliked talking, normal people only liked talking because living alone became boring.

Tessa’s brother, also burly, stirring, dismayed because Tessa hated speaking about herself.

“Brother,” Tessa giggled, “Talking about oneself only becomes boring people!” Alas, Tessa wasn’t boring, brother agreed fully.

Tessa. Silly, lanky, ditzy Tessa, dismayed because people wonder.

“Silly Tessa,” Tessa murmurs, “living only becomes truthful people.” Alas, Tessa disliked being truthful because sparking ideas seemed boring.

Tessa, cloudy, upset, unsure Tessa, dancing spinning, whirling, hiding behind herself.





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