She Wears Three Inch Heels

            She wears three-inch heels, a short skirt, and a tee-shirt with some band on the front. Somehow she manages to look put together, unique, and normal all in one. The bright blue bow in her short-cropped hair might help. Or maybe it’s the simple black framed glasses. She carries a bright green purse and doesn’t even need to say anything in order for everyone to know that she’s the confident type.

            I watch her as she takes her seat in front of me. I’m the one no one notices until I do something embarrassing. I’m the one with the plain brown hair, the too-full backpack, the blue jeans, the ordinary gray shirt, the cheep black flip-flops. I wish I was her, and so many others. Anyone but me.

            He sits next to me. Tall, dark, and handsome… or rather scrawny with gorgeous strawberry-blond curls and eyes that I would call ice-blue except that they seem to convey a type of warmth that I can’t even describe. For a brief second I think maybe he’s looking at me. Then I remember that I’m surrounded by girls who are ten times prettier that I am and infinitely more interesting.

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