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The Beauty of December
I saw her today. Standing in the line at the coffee shop. The smell was bitter-sweet; fragrances that belong in God’s garden. She placed her order. Two extra sugars, so her drink would be as sweet as her. Her voice sang like the bells of Christmas, and the laughter of a small child. She got her drink, and turned to walk away. She looked me right in the eyes I swear it. But I saw more than her brilliant blue forget-me-nots. I saw the constellations in those orbs, the shooting stars that would fall with her tears, over a book that she’d bought the previous day. She smiled a smile that could stop wars and violence and poverty all at once, with no chance of it ever returning. I envied the mugs that got to kiss her sleepy lips on a winter's morning. I had passed her almost every day for a month, but never really seen her. I would glance at her, admire her beauty as she passed, but not think twice about it. Today was the day I realised that she was something special. Something, or rather, someone real.
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