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The Girl in Dark Glasses

She sat in the car behind a pair of sunglasses. We were in the mountains attending a festival. I did not know the girl. In truth I barely knew anyone except one friend who introduced me to everyone. It was a nice afternoon lounging by a lake, riding on the wave of alcoholic vapors from the night before that had been topped up by an afternoon can of beer and a small bottle of the best convenience store whiskey I could buy. It was our little getaway. It was our time to spend in the silence of nature listening to the breezes rustling the leaves of the trees and watching the waves dance on the surface of the lake. We made jokes about a guy who was with us. He desperately wanted to spend the last 30 minutes before heading back to Tokyo with a girl he had met the night before. In those brief moments, it seemed the world had stopped for a while. It wasn't that everything had ended, it was that we had frozen ourselves in the moment just for a little bit. The girl in the dark glasses, for the most part, was silent. She had her sights set on a young man who seemed kind in the eyes and friendly. He tried his best to make me feel welcomed despite my garish appearance lumbering big both towards the sky and the horizon; out of place except for the kindness of the smiles that welcomed me. I was grateful for that. The hour drifted on that way until it was time for everyone to say goodbye and return to their individual lives in their individual spots of reality.


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