i first saw fawn when i was four.
she sat by the swings all alone, with no one to keep her company.
i wanted to go talk to her, but she seemed sad, and i didn't know how to deal with sad people.
so i decided to just watch her.
her feet gently pushed against the muddy ground, making the swing sway slowly.
her small hands gripped on the handles, making her knuckles turn white.
her head was hanging down, making her brown short hair cover her face.
i couldn't see her eyes, or how her face looked, but for some reason, the way she stared at the ground and talked to nobody fascinated me.
she didn't look up not even once, and i really wanted to see her face.
after a few more minutes, she got up and left, but she didn't notice that i, an infatuated boy named greg, was watching her.
YOU ARE READING
fawn
Historia Corta«lowercase intended» a story about love, change, and first times.
