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She spun in circles, arms out and glazed eyes to the sky. Her dress spinning in an orb-like bubble around her. People covered their children's curious glances hoping they wouldn't catch her flight of pure insanity. Literature and numbers were a foreign subject to her but she knew how to survive, a rare skill gifted to only the most fortunate.
The streets full of beggars like herself, knew her as the innocent girl that possessed only one friend, an unnamed, a rascal like herself, known for his protective stance and stature over her. A boy of her age and a comforting embrace when she remembered that she possessed no family nor home of her own. 'The lucky ones,' as he called them, looked over at her ragged pitiful clothes in disgust but she smiled and radiated in ignorant bliss. In this world of utter cruelness, she imagined herself to be a princess, one day to be found and rescued, all the while the little boy played with rats to help him ease the pain of society's bitter rejection. Obli
The GirlIt was not that she was very beautiful, much less pretty, that caused her to draw the eyes of young men. She was, to say simply, interesting.
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There was nothing truly remarkable about her physical appearance that would immediately make one's head turn. However, it was something of her being that made them turn. Something in her eyes that seemed to be ever thoughtful, as if seeing its familiar surroundings in a new light. Instead of the sparkle of surprise, they glowed with rumination...or perhaps it was illumination.
She had not the physique of a model. No bold beauty, no charming gracefulness, and absolutely no sweet innocence. Just the look. The look of a young lady, blossoming into a captivating woman.