The Scarf
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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Jul 10, 2014
I roll over onto my side and cover my head with a second pillow, trying to smother the images. I wipe my cheeks quickly with the back of my hand. I straighten up and take a deep breath before heading to the kitchen. As the water runs into my glass, I look out the window. The big tree in my backyard is bare now. It looks dead. The leaves are in very neat piles on the ground thanks to our gardener Mom hired over the summer. She still has him come every week even though the chilly air has decimated every living thing outside.
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That's where I saw her, just underneath the weeping willow. She sat with this solemn look on her face as she read this huge book. And that's when I just got confused, how could someone so beautiful look so sad? It never looked right to me, even when I was just so young. Now everyday she sits beneath that tree, for six years. It took me six years just to get the courage to just sit next to her, with the help of a little anger from my family. I unexpectedly befriended her that day, and afterwards, we ended up sitting next to each other almost everyday. Together we sat, right under the willow tree. Only to have it end almost too quickly.

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