New Stranger Studies

January 25, 2008

This is from the exercise we did in class.

Her plump cheeks, rosy from the cold Vermont morning, compliment her large brown irises. She is small, just as any five year old. She shows her two missing teeth when she let’s out the squeaky, care-free laugh of hers.

The stone around Middlebury’s monument for fallen soldiers feels the thumping of her clunking winter boots. Her parents call to her trying to get her to come home or maybe a restaurant or maybe just to go because its cold I don’t know. She refuses.

Fifteen years ago. I am the one she chases. Her hair black her skin brown it would fit. I chuckle. The memories she and her younger brother will have– I live from my bench.


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