Sitting in a chair at the mall, charging my computer and looking up the number for the pennsylvania dmv, the patches of dirt on my skin look like camouflage.
I don't want to talk, just blend into the background, and not be noticed.
Wearing the same blue and gold flannel button down shirt, faded black jeans, beat up teal nike's (no socks), and black ski cap with greasy brown strands poking out from the front, and the back tied in a ponytail, I look up.
My eyes meet the limpid blue eyes a blond haired girl around the age of 11 or 12 walking with her mother and younger sister.
The girl smiles, and immediately says, "I really like your hair," before I can severe the contact.
"Th-thanks," I mutter out as sweetly and nervously as I possibly could.
She walked by.
She didn't say another word.
Her mother and sister didn't even seem to notice, too distracted by the near future and what lays ahead.
I stayed at the mall for another two hours, and didn't see them pass again, but today, I remembered what it was like to be an awkward kid in middle school again.
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