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There was a certain sanctity to the way in which she carried herself. She walked with eloquence and flipped her hair with grace. She smiled easily and aimed to make others smile as well. But beneath this facade was a hurting heart, a wounded soul. Beneath lay a monster, angry and scratching to get out. But appearance was all that mattered. Watch me, be me, want me, she echoed into the night. Fake it til you make it. Bury the monster. Remain in control.
The scorn was unbearable, and it wasn't even directed at him. But he felt it. It filled the room and threatened to suffocate each and every one of them. But they stood silently, unable to speak or unwilling? No one was sure, but soon they would all die from the weight that crashed down on and threatened to take their last breaths.
The entree was anything but ordinary. Looking at the odd dish she couldn't recognize what would soon be entering her mouth, but she only hoped the beautiful colors and intricate arrangement did it justice. With that, she bowed her head to pray, not only thanking God for this meal, but longing to find Him in everything.
There's a silence to any sound. The room was filled with chatter, conversation bouncing past her ears as the music pumped through her core. But there was still silence, enough that he thoughts ran free and she left the space entirely.
Like a swan you took flight, but you wouldn't return. As the imaginary white speck disappeared into the bright sky, blindness took my sight. I stared looking up until your footsteps faded and the car drove away. Darkness consumed as I crumbled into tears, a beautiful swan no more.
She took a roll of paper and began folding. She would crease on side perfectly and flip it back to create yet another fold. She had no intentions for this accordion-like paper, but she lost herself in the repetition.
The air was crisp as he took is first breath outside of the stuffy room. There had been too many emotions crammed into one space, and wintery outdoors was the only escape. The wind whipped across his face like a friendly slap to bring him back to reality. He walked away, taking a moment as he passed each house to think about its occupants, to think about anyone but himself.
He added the hottest spices he could find and took a bite. He chewed slowly as though the longer he savored his meal the more flavor it would have. But it still tasted bland. Everything was bland, but trying to spice up his food was easier than trying to spice up his life.
She poured the oil in to the pan, watching as it slid to the outside of the pan and began to sizzle lightly. As the toaster popped and the news droned on she felt content in the sounds of a new day.
They sipped their champagne nervously as their eyes darted around the party. They sat next to each other but didn't make any conversation. Instead they simply observed the seen, avoiding all eye contact and sampling anything and everything that passed by. "Party crashers," she mumbled as the best man finished his speech, and to that they drank.
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