Of Hair Dye and Cigarettes
i was told i was beautiful
“Nora?”
Fuchsia turns and stares down the boy who called out her old name. She’s seen him around before; espresso colored hair, dark eyes, tall and way too skinny. Confident, too. Wes, a faint voice in the back of her head says. You had Biology together last year.
She ignores that tidbit of information and snaps, “Who the fuck is Nora? I’m Fuchsia.” Her eyes are cold and she stares him down. She sees him shrink away from her, the confidence he showed seconds ago fading away.
“I thought...never mind.” And he disappears into the crowd. Fuchsia scoffs and her Doc Martens thud against the linoleum as she walks away.
Fuchsia turns and stares down the boy who called out her old name. She’s seen him around before; espresso colored hair, dark eyes, tall and way too skinny. Confident, too. Wes, a faint voice in the back of her head says. You had Biology together last year.
She ignores that tidbit of information and snaps, “Who the fuck is Nora? I’m Fuchsia.” Her eyes are cold and she stares him down. She sees him shrink away from her, the confidence he showed seconds ago fading away.
“I thought...never mind.” And he disappears into the crowd. Fuchsia scoffs and her Doc Martens thud against the linoleum as she walks away.