there was a girl in her early tweens. The girl was beautiful, okay, absolutely freaking beautiful and don’t believe anyone who tells you otherwise. She had a confident
smirk grin, almost-smooth peach skin, and golden glasses framing her twinkling eyes the color of melting chocolate.
Mmmm, chocolate. I’m hungry.
She was of regular size, she was not fat and she was not skinny. She had a decent personality, creative, independent, had a sense of humor, relatively nice. She loved reading. Among her favorite books were Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, The Lunar Chronicles, Divergent, The Hunger Games, and Dork Diaries. She also loved candy, chocolate, ice cream, and cake.
She was also scared to death of rats.
She dressed in casual clothes most of the time, in loose black yoga pants, a long-sleeved Harvard tee (that’s where she wanted to go for college) black sneakers and a black hijab.
Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. Did you just say hijab?
Yup. She wore a hijab, the Muslim word for headscarf.
Did that suddenly make you think less of her? That just because she covered her hair she was somehow less of a person?
Just something to think about.
Until next time,
P.S. Wow, that story alone without this P.S. note was 199 letters! Whew. That was close.