The Figure

July 14, 2008
By Shannah Cotton, Norwich, CT

The unnatractive flat feet pad up the steps,
moving with a swiftness of being bare.
The long legs with splotches of fake tanner climb as well,
Their muscles at ease from the many miles they have run in the past, remembering the movements.
The small hands with nails bitten to the quick, grasp the railing, pulling the thin sunburnt body up the stairs.
As the figure moves upward the long brown hair swings lightly from side to side, blowing the bangs into the big blue eyes, blinking from the scratchy anoyance.
A small hand reaches up to assist the blinking baby blues.
The remaining hand meets the end of the rail
and the beginning of the wall.
The bare feet reach the softness of the carpet.
And the long legs relax further, knowing they have arrived.
The unconvientionally pretty face turns to the mirror,
staring into it with an expression thats undescribable.
Moments pass, a half smile slowly shows on the soft small lips.
And with one quick motion, the body turns to leave.
Skipping down the hall, the feet stop at the last room
and with a slam of the sticker covered door,
Shes gone.
Only moments after, music is heard from the room
Of the long, thin, unique figure.

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