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Black hair, brown highlights, a denim minidress, and generous decolletage.

She was standing right there, and I couldn’t not look.

She’s all in black, with lavender lips, and she won’t look at me.

It’s only a matter of time.

A night out, a few too many, and no regrets worth mentioning.

She looks sad.

Black stockings on pale legs, and why my imagination is the hottest thing going.

Imperfection can be hot.

That is all.

A brief history of my face.