She never wore white. He had noticed
this. He didn't know why. It was a weird quirk. She was full of weird
quirks. And she was so freaking interesting and unpredictable. He was
going to figure her out.
Her light was on. Again. Again.
He throw a rock up to her window. He
wondered if she expected it now, if perhaps she waited for the sound
of stone against glass.
When she came to the window, he didn't
ask her about the light or ask for her name like usual. Instead, he
asked, “Why don't you ever wear white?”
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