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Hands

I could feel her breathing next to me; two perfect strangers. Her long, ringed curls were touching my coats shoulders and I wondered how we ended up almost touching. I could have sworn we were at least a few inches apart a few minutes ago. Not that I was complaining.

I could see in the mirror in front of us that she had freckles and green eyes that skimmed the magazine in her hands fluently. She had a heart-shaped face and I found myself wondering what her name was. My eyes shifted to look back at my reflection and I was almost disgusted to see that I wasn’t nearly as unique as the person next to me. My short, dark hair didn’t draw attention, and neither did my brown eyes. I had no pattern on my face and it’s shape wasn’t as soft.

Being disappointed with myself, my eyes lowered to the hands on my lap and I studied my own long fingers. I shifted my fingers back and forth in my hands and wondered how her hands would feel instead. Probably softer, less calloused.  I looked over and tried to see around the magazine. Pale pink nails on small hands. And they indeed did look soft.

I wasn’t quite sure when her stop would be approaching but I knew I had a while to go. To spend the time I had with her next to me, I tried to tell what scent she was wearing. Probably some type of flower. A little sweet. I couldn’t pinpoint a name, though – I didn’t know flowers at all well enough.

The pages to her magazine were starting to fill up one side and she would be done with it soon. I wondered if that meant my time with her would also be over soon, but when the next stop came, she was still reading that last page of hers. She didn’t budge. I almost let out a sigh of relief.

When I assumed she finished the last page, she closed the flimsy array of pages and stuffed it back into her bag. “Well,” she started, and I was blinking with surprise that she was acknowledging me after all this time,  “”I’ve finished that complete magazine and you still have yet to say anything to me.” Her green eyes stared like a cat’s into mine.

I found myself trying to search through the extensive library in my head for words, but found it was all blank. I could feel my face heat up and her gaze softened. Her lips turned upward into a slight smile and I didn’t even bother to find words. She was more gorgeous than I had thought.

Then she lifted her hand up and spoke her name so softly. My fingers clenched for a moment before curling around hers as I returned with my own name.

And I was right, her hands were soft.

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