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Late Night Snack

A Little Second Person Story I Wrote in Middle School, Enjoy!

You roll over, hoping to see the alarm about to go off. Instead you see what felt like hours was actually only a few minutes. With a frustrated sigh you roll back over, knowing it'll only make things worse if you face the demon red lights.

Rolling your eyes to yourself you realize you're acting like a child. And like every child you don't want to wait to get to your vacation. But Mommy and Daddy said to stop and rest so here you are, trying to pass the time in a ratty hotel in the middle of nowhere to your much awaited destination.

That time is taking too long! You're about to grumble again when your stomach beats you to it. Should you get up and make the trek down to find food? You roll over and the decision is made. You shuffle around until you have just enough clothes on to not be yelled at and stumble out into the hall. Just as you expected there isn't a soul in sight. You wander around the halls until you see a sign for the vending machine nook.

You don't bother looking up until you hear the frustrated humph of another human-being next to you. Your eyes snap up to see a girl around your age staring down the machine with a dark malice in her eyes. She's standing there with one hip cocked in a sassy yet somehow elegant way, making her short pair of white-blue-and-yellow shorts and tightly bound tee-shirt even more alarming. The neckline of her shirt showed off her bra straps and shoulders in a way reminding you of the 80s, ever so slightly.

Her arms are crossed defensively yet comfortably, as if she spends a lot of time like that and is used to protecting herself more than holding herself. Her deep auburn hair is almost a minor detail next to the perfection of each hair. You can tell by the way she constantly runs her fingers through the strands that there isn't often a hair out of place.

Her black fingernails match her black toes, which stand bare on the worn carpet. The way she stands is strange, almost as if she isn't quite comfortable on her feet but is enough to not wear shoes very often (obvious by the faint color on the bit of the bottoms you can see). She stands with one foot on her toes and one completely flat, reminding you of a common ballerina stance but slightly changed to accommodate the hip pop. She seems to grow more frustrated with the machine and moves her foot like she's going to kick but thinks better of it. You aren't sure whether its because she is barefooted or because of your presence but something tells you it's more the latter, but just barely.

Her eyes find you for but a moment and you get a full view of her face before she turns back to her staring contest, representing mankind in an endless fight with machines. She's freckled almost everywhere and has fair enough skin you'd think it was as light as it goes but her tans lines tell a different story.

Her nose is too big for her face but her wide-edged glasses aid in her attempt to distract from her nose. She has bangs in a way that she doesn't seem to like them, but her hidden high forehead is only seen when she swipes her bangs away in frustration for a moment before fixing them accordingly, as quickly as she can.

Her eyes seem to change color in the light but more than the color is the emotion shown in them. The anger almost seems too extreme to be reserved for a lack of a Hostess cupcake. She's seen things, that much you can tell but what is beside you. You have a sudden urge to ask but refrain as you realize a stranger wouldn't tell you her life story just because you're curious. There's also a sadness deep down, one you didn't notice until it was already gone, already hidden once more deep down in her mind.

She shifts ever so slightly and you watch her shorts creep up her legs. They aren't bad legs, though she's only average height with average legs and you feel your stomach drop in a distantly familiar way. That's when you notice them and get a slight idea that you aren't just imagining the anger and sadness, it's very much true and very much real. They look old but unmistakable.

"I'm flattered, I truly am, but please refrain from staring down my thighs. I know they are SO attractive and all but it's not very polite." She doesn't say it rudely or angry but more soft and giving up on the task at hand. "By the way, I'm almost positive this stupid thing is broken. At least it seems to hate me. It ate my dollar in one swallow." Her speech is on the verge of proper and normal and you just pass it off as the vocabulary she seems to have. Her voice is ever so slightly forced and you know from your own time that she must have had some sort of speech therapy.

"Pardon me but you are staring again." She smiles a toothy grin with every pearl winking at you and you can't help but smile back. It's not a completely straight smile though what is is clearly artificial. Her cheeks bones rise into her eyes to turn them to slits. And yet it's somehow attractive, the way she lights up with a smile. "I'm sorry! Are you trying to buy something?"

You quickly nod and she smiles again, stepping out of the way with a graceful bow, an ever so slight touch of sarcasm present. You smile and step in to retrieve the prize you've almost forgotten. Out of the corner of your eye you see her twist her leg around so she could see the back of her calf, exposing the bottom of her foot to you once more. Your eyes widen beside yourself as you can note, just beneath the thin layer of dirt, even more scars. They couldn't have been her own hand like the others could. No these ones were straight in a way no one could reach their own feet.

"You're staring again..." This time it was soft and quiet and scared. She was upset about your line of sight and the apologies spill out of your mouth and your eyes quickly shot to the machine, hoping it'll take your dollar faster.

Before you can even press a button, out falls a Hostess cupcake. She apologizes quietly and begins swiftly walking down the hall. You call after her but her head stays down. You can't leave it like this, it simply won't do. You jog down the hall and just catch up with her before she ducks into her room. Without saying a word you hold out her cupcake. She mumbles about not being able to take that and how bad she'd feel if she did but you insist. Her eyes hit the ground and a hand reaches out reluctantly. She mumble a thank you so timid it almost breaks your heart.

Suddenly, as if you have no control over your own movements, you reach and gently pull her chin up to look at you and kiss her. You kiss her long and hard and full. Both of you hover for a moment, close enough to feel her breath dance across your lips.

"Goodnight," she whispers against your lips and pushes back,closing the door in one step. You don't quite know what to do and stand there amazed for a moment. You listen closely and swear you hear the same fecal attempt to catch breath on the other side of the door. Right there and then you decide something.

There is no way you are sleeping tonight.

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