quinta-feira, 21 de julho de 2011

Slang: A person from New Zeland

From a train she came. Or was it a bus? I'm not sure. However, the familiar scent from the school days was still fresh in her scarlet hair, within her brown gaze, adorning her beautiful skin.

Oh what a day. We walked from point to point in the treasure town we where met for the first time. Just us, and beloved friends, important to us both, from the time we shared the same days, when we could trade each other sights.

The mall was sure gigantic, I wonder how I managed to find them amidst all that mess. The time was running out, and the shopping mall was closing, either with us locked inside it, or kicked out of it with annoying guard-like present correspondention of curses and ear-pullings.

I could see them, in a bed store, calling out for me from the floor below. Waiting and laughing at my tardiness. We all lay down by some big king-couple-sized mattress or watnot, and I luckily had the spot next to her.

It was nearly endless, the moment before falling asleep, with my arms enclosing her in a such mysterious manner; The precious crimson star of my 7th grade, now with her back touching my chest, accepting my arms in a playful and kind fall to sleep.

Without pleasure from my flesh, without the strangeness of her being with someone else, even though it was what should be expected. Only the warmth of her body, until it all went blank, carried by the softness of that paradise within my dreams.

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