Dorkerina
- Reads 153
- Votes 7
- Parts 3
Ongoing<5 mins
Last published Sun, Aug 17, 2014
He wore black lggings and a light pink shirt. His wire-rimmed glasses balanced on his face, threatening to fall off. Outside in the cold autumn air, his slicked back chocolate brown hair flew in the wind. After dance was always the hardest: they would always come, every single day. Nobody would help him, nobody cared.
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glasses
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