There wasn't anything left of right with her. With hair that fell just around her silver eyes in a sentence completion sort of way. The grey sky complimented her grey heart and her grey shirt with a soft pillow top kind of lick; she looked at everyone with a question in her mouth. She played antique guitar with the lights off and the candles on and the fan blowing high so the flame danced like the motivational posters of her mother's that she threw away after Tuesday's pasta dinner. When the clock hit midnight and a half, the tiny toys she kept beneath her staircase began to dance to her silhouette. She walked with ambiguity and smiled explicitly and kissed with fervent playfulness in order to be remembered. She made the rest of everyone sing without hesitation and -- until the disastrous resemblance between her and Satan became evident -- fall in love without second thought.
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