The Town: Part 4

To her feet ran millions of gold threads from her tiny head, flush against pallid, chalky skin. Like anyone in the town, she had two eyes: one eye a solid green; the other a dense brown. It was the charm and utter magnitude of her naked feelings that made her such an extraordinary spectacle; the way she was able to wink with sea-ish tranquility and yet still grip the blessed individual with a perceptive, earthy-dirt sort of captivity was what made her the top 6% of the town—with only she and she alone.

Alone.

That was what she would describe herself as.

It was not because of this unconsented ranking, rather it pertained to her own self judgment. She knew all that had ever walked in this town, and knew enough of the animals to fill a few notebooks. Even the man she had a slight interest in—the phrase “until the sun stopped their hearts” made her want to slit her own throat, however, and was merely a disgusting assumption by the narrator—had become another passing creature, another experience she would file in the part of her brain she wish she could burn, another animal to scribble onto a notebook.

Yes, she thought. Her eyes flashed a deep red. A violent yet sad kind of shade.

Zackhy meant as much to her as heaven meant to the damned.

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