He was different. Not different looking, or different acting, he was a perfectly normal boy. He stopped. What I mean to say is, most attractive teenage boys are uninterested in the world of books, they walk down the street, confident, assured, a place to go. But as he passed the bookstore he looked in, stopped, and watched for a while. I found that simple act so utterly refreshing that I simply had to write about it. Maybe this boy actually liked to read, maybe he was different. I didn't get a good look at his face, and I'm sure I couldn't pick his face out in a crowd for the life of me. But still. Life constantly surprises you doesn't it?
YOU ARE READING
The unorganized scribbles of your ordinary girl
PoesíaThis is a collection of all things me, poetry (mine or others I enjoy) literature, my thoughts and ever present doubts of the world, and little things that I think make life better. I hope you enjoy it.
