The story of a pauper

by the dreamer

I knew she had been an angel, and she liked me, I just couldn’t believe it. A pauper like myself had no chance with a princess like her. She had velvet curly hair, her body was like the goddess Athena (I don’t say that too often about girls). Her cheeks had a bright pink coat powder she adorned herself with. Her skin was of natural beauty, it was as smooth as a succeeding storm on a mountain peak. She was exactly a year older than me, we had shared the same birthdays. But I don’t think that’s why I will never her forget her, it must have been her interest towards me and her marvelous beauty. How had I been so lucky for her to even notice me?

I remember driving by one time, when class was canceled for our religious studies on the weekend. She had been walking on the street and I simply drove past her (I was still too young to drive, my grandma had been driving), once again she had noticed me. She broke out with a smile, my heart felt furious because I knew I could only see and not touch. Damn hormones. This other time we had been at church and the guy next to her turns around and tells me “Hey man, she likes you”. I had been obstruct, I didn’t know what to do, let alone everyone else was staring, I felt much abashed. I just sat there like a taciturn beggar, I didn’t know how to communicate at that moment so I simply just sat there and felt awkward. For some reason I felt comfort in my own misery, never going up to her and just talk to her and carry a normal conversation, it must have been impossible for me to do so back then. I was somewhat anti-social but nothing too weird out of the ordinary. Had it been culture assimilation my friends? Perhaps that, but surely im glad I had met an angel whose wings had been torn off.

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