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That girl

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There was a girl. It does not matter what her name was. In fact she had no name, no name for the purpose of this story. She just was that girl.
That girl, she was tired. She was tired of many things. Things that pushed her down. They felt heavy, very heavy.
Some days, that girl didn’t deal. Some days she gave up. And in a sense, those were the days she lived.
It was one of these precarious days that that girl spent watching. It was something she enjoyed, you see. She liked to watch, because if she paid enough attention, there was always the hope that she might understand.
And that girl sat on a bench. A bench placed in a park, as it was in fact for this story. And that girl sat watching the day, watching the park, watching the people. Her eyes skipped along parked cars and followed the cars that knew their way.
It rained, and the water fell on that girl.
It poured and the water pooled on the tops of her sneakers (now stained dark)
And eventually, the sun shone on that girl. But she paid no mind. That girl just watched. Watched as the raindrops faded, her sneakers dried and her hair curled under the freedom from a hot iron.
And when she was done watching, and she had seen all she cared to see of this world, that girl walked home.
That girl walked and walked and walked.
Until she came to her home, where she opened the door, and walked inside.
That girl’s mother was a good mother. Consumed in her life of doting. And the good mother asked as any good mother, “how are you today?”
That girl answered the good mother “ Im ok”
And as any other good mother, she knew that it was an incomplete statement, but she also knew that her daughter needed space.
So the good mother answered “that’s good” and left her to her space.
But that girl was not ok. And it was not good.
In fact she was more tired then ever that day. More so then she had ever been before.
That girl decided she was going to really live.
And that girl took out her secrets, all of them I tell you, and placed them in a box. A shoebox it was.
Then that girl poured out all of her fears. These she also placed in the box.
That girl looked inside of herself and saw a few remaining hopes. These she wrenched from her soul, folded, and placed inside the box.
That girl reached one hand inside her and felt around. Surprisingly, she felt nothing, nothing at all.
That girl closed the box, placed it under her bed (it had a canopy) and softly floated away.
Later, the good mother came looking for that girl.
Sadly, the good mother received a shock. A shock that showed her everything was not, in fact, ok.
The police were called. There may have been blood.
It did not matter if there was blood, no, not for this story.
But that girl was gone
And now everybody knew that girls name.



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