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3- Lovely Eron

—Hey, Eron! I don't say this to just anyone, but you would be perfect for the role of Dimple, the wonder child.

—This guy —I snatched the paper from his hands and searched for nice words to say, but it came out—: It's just a draft. It doesn't matter anymore. How can you be so annoying?

Someday, when I'm ready. Wait for me. And that request came to my mind when it was already out of context for the conversation.

I mentally return to the present and laugh weakly at that other failed attempt at a promise.

In the end, I leave behind the solitary space that owned my childhood fantasies, to step into a more desolate—coma, space—and cruel one: the world.

South Dakota is the closest thing to a freezer during low temperatures; it's easy to deduce without being a genius. I miss the breath coming out of my mouth due to the particular cold of the winter season, because this summer heat is suffocating and keeps me sweaty; but if I think about it, I prefer it over freezing.

Before getting on the bus, I adjust my face mask in place, and walk quickly to reach one of the empty seats at the back.

Seconds, minutes… Well; time becomes eternal in the crowded transportation filled with rowdy girls, other noisy boys, not to mention disrespectful students as well. So many shrill voices together are unbearable. Everything, really, along with the weather, is making me lose my temper barely at eight in the morning.

I tense up when a girl sits in the seat next to mine. I close my eyes upon sensing her intentions to engage in conversation. To make the message clear, I rest the side of my head against the window. Mistake. The hot glass burns the uncovered area of my face. Damn it! I also turn around in an attempt to find comfort, and I take advantage to show her that public transportation is not a place to annoy or flirt. My back receiving her gaze will make her understand.

I'm not being rude; I don't even know her. It's a valuable and free lesson given by the very talented Eron Montjoy.

Ah, my charitable act of the day.

—Montjoy Eron, April 5th, 1993, South Dakota —The strange girl mutters. I can't ignore the annoying sound of her nails continuously tapping on the seat.

Nosy and annoying girl, August 18th, 2016, South Dakota. For goodness sake. People should leave me alone for once in my life. Who the hell is this girl and why does she dare to talk to me?

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