Drama struts around the magazine aisles, only
picking the ones with “the really cute boys”.
As she brings a pile of magazines back to her table,
her shimmery, silky, silver skirt sashays from side to side--
effectively blinds anyone who dares to look her way.
Her 6 in. heeled bejeweled boots make the same clomp-clomp noise that horses do.

As she finds her seat, others can hear the squeaks and
squeals she makes as she drools over various abs of
various boys--heads slowly swivel to look at the source of commotion.
Drama receives glares before the people go back to their novels.

Drama twirls her hair, in what she thinks is a seductive way, to try to
capture the eye of the heartthrob two tables over. With his
carefully brushed brown hair and his
tight fitting sweater.
She leans back in her chair and gives a loud yawn. Again
alerting people to her presence in the room. Specifically Mr.
Tight Fitting Sweater. As Drama stretches her long arms into the air
her midriff is exposed, her nicely defined stomach on display.

Mr. Tight Sweater finally looks up from his book of poetry
gives her a once over and
Mr. Tight Sweater returns back to his book.
Drama pouts her bright pink, bubble gum, lip glossed lips out at him.
Drama’s head sags and she lets out a drawn out sigh.
And in Drama’s pretty little head, an idea forms.
She picks up her magazines and walks right past him and
“trips”, spilling her magazines all over Mr. Tight Sweater.

“Oh my GAWD! I am SO sorry! I am so clumsy sometimes, like seriously, are you okay?”
For good measure Drama pretends to make sure he’s okay.
She rubs her hands all over his chest and arms.
“Don’t touch me,” He says with an edge of stone cold steel in his voice.
“WHAT!?” Now everyone can’t help but watch this play out. “I was only
trying to HELP you! Why are you so rude?!” He gives a disgusted grunt,
hands Drama her magazines, and returns to his book.

Drama’s bottom lip trembles,
Her tears slide down her face
which leave behind ugly tracks of mascara.
She clomp, clomp, clomps her way out the library front entrance,
knocked over chairs,
scattered papers,
and thrown books
lie in her wake.