Rushing Wind


She stands filled with pride among her friends. The rush of wind that preceded her arrival was nowhere in sight. She holds her drink to view as she smiles. Amazed at her beauty they stare at her. She’s funnier than she’s ever been. She is the center of everyone’s attention. She looks in the bathroom mirror to perfect the perfected, when she sees lipstick on her teeth. She quickly wipes it off to notice the stain of spit up on her pink blouse and the cereal in her hair. She cleans herself up and breathes deeply. She pulls on her skirt to notice the freshly shaved legs are bleeding. She dabs off the blood with a moist paper towel. Her face now red she concedes that perfection is elusive. As she walks away determined and filled with perseverance, she drags the laces of a brown shoe and the bow of a black one. The rushing wind of hurry prevails once more.



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