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One Worm Tango This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

My eyes followed her awkward movements as she danced across the meadow with no apparent rhythm or pattern. Soft lining in my jacket pockets allowed my hands to slip easily into them while the scent of the morning dew lingered on my tongue and in my nose, reminding me that it was probably much too early in the morning for us to be out there.

She bounded towards where I leaned against a tree, looping her frigid arms around my neck and kissing my cheek. “Dance with me?” she requested.

“Fat chance of that,” I snorted. I reached back and unhooked her arms, running my hands over them. “You’re freezing,” I then informed her, arching a brow. “If you were planning on dragging me outside at a time like this, shouldn’t you have grabbed something warmer?”

“I like being cold,” was the bold announcement.

I stared.

“I do!” she insisted, even as goose-bumps rose on her arms. Somehow, I believed her.

“More like you’re planning on stealing my jacket.”

“Tch,” she grumbled. “You wouldn’t give me it, anyway.”

The sound of my own low laughter was mostly drowned by her hair as I pressed lips to it. “I would,” I drawled, “if you didn’t like the cold. Personally, I’m not a fan.”

“So not romantic,” she sighed. She twirled around and out of my arms, back to flitting across the meadow with the intended grace of a ballerina. Instead, she zipped haltingly back and forth more like a fly, stumbling frequently when the grass tangled around her feet or her hair whipped into her face.

“You are insane,” I called out to her the third time she fell. “Why is it so important to do this at six in the morning?”

She plucked a worm off the ground before she answered, holding it out in front of her and changing abruptly to a waltz. “It’s the only time my dance partners are around!” Her giggles fluttered airily towards me, carried by the wind.

I rolled my eyes and waited for her to spin closer. She had just turned to look at me when my leather jacket plunked softly against her face. “Get any worm goo on it…”

“I won’t,” she supplied. “I’ll build his jacket out of grass.” And she tangoed away.





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-DreamForever- said...
Aug. 28, 2011 at 4:14 pm
This is sweet in a really odd way. For some reason, I like it. (:
 
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