The brown eyed boy.

Him.

He was tall. But not the kind of tall where you have to get on your tippiest toes to kiss him and he wasn’t muscular like the guys you seen on TV with the rock hard abs. He had a well structured body frame that held his polo t-shirts quite well. He wasn’t skinny either. He had dark hair that didn’t always seem to agree with the weather. It usually curled at the ends on good days. His eyes will always be somewhat of a mystery to me. It’s not that he was dark and mysterious. It’s just that he looked determined about something. Even when he greeted you a good morning, you’d know he’d meant it because he would look 10 feet in your soul and you’d feel those cold shivers, but you’d know he actually wished you a ‘good’ morning. and sincere sincerity like that is quite an impossible and tedious task to find. He was the type that most people don’t give a second glance at. He was the kind of person who smiled with no effort. The kind of person who wouldn’t survive in a place like this.

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

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