Mint Girl

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The window fogged up in hurried spasms, as the little girl pressed up closely to its pane, behind the thick, red curtains. Her nose made a smudgy imprint on the clouded glass as she impatiently waited for the footsteps to fade out of the room. Finally, hearing the click of the light switch, she stealthily crept out of her hideaway. She daintily made her way across the room to the low, cluttered nightstand. A dusty lamp, magazines, pins, hats, buttons, reading glasses, gloves, and countless other tinkerings flooded the top of the makeshift dresser, so it’s bottom was almost indecipherable. Dainty fingers carefully picked through the items, fingering each one lovingly, yet leaving no item soiled, or mussed  in their wake. The girls digits were indeed dexterous masters of their graceful art.

By and by, after her initial voracious intrigues in the array of goods on the table were settled, she reached for a frayed, blue plastic bag leaning against the base of the lamp. Slowly extending her hand within the bag, so as to not disturb its crinkly-noised nature, she took out a small, wrapped parcel from within. And returning the bag dutifully to its original position, she settled back against the frame of the giant golden bed behind her, in order to appreciate what she anticipated next. Peeling away the speckled cream wrapper, she exposed a perfectly round, golden ball. Her pink tongue took an irrisitable dash at the sticky goodness, tingling it’s buds in delight. The girls mouth burst with the flavors of menthol and pepper, and a sugary sweetness too, to soften the fiery sting. A smile of contentment traced its way along her face, and she curled up to read one of the big magazines. ~

An hour later, gruff footsteps traced along the same path very little ones, had patterned upon not long ago. Entering his room he found his little girl leaning on the frame of his bed, on the knotted rough carpet of his bedside, magazine in hand. His old eyes shone as he beheld the portrait of life and its curiosities before him. Gently dislodging the book from her dimpled hands, he gathered her limp body in his arms and layed her on the canopy of his bed, then bent down to kiss her warm cheek. A breath of menthol wafted up to his nostrils as he did so, and his weathered face cracked into a loving smile. She would forever be the little mint girl.

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