Oh great, it’s her again. We all groan when she shows up to the party with her bouncing hair ready to spring, her smile prepared to dart at the soonest opportunity. She never stays more that twenty seconds. Count it next time she comes by. Sensitivity will say “hi” if you say “hi”, smile and nod if you say “hello”, and glare at you if you say “hey”.
She isn’t very coordinated. When she was young, her family wouldn’t let her near the grand Canyon when they visited Arizona. They know that even the slightest wind would send her tumbling down. She would never stop complaining.
Be very careful around her, if you brush against her in the hall, she’ll spend the rest of the day slowly collapsing and, in the evening, she’ll start crying because she thinks you hate her now. Great job, dude. Way to go.
As if it couldn’t get worse. Her boyfriend is here, too. His flaming hair sits to one side, frozen in its crimson consumption of his head. His shirt is unbuttoned at least halfway down; I’m not looking any lower to check. He’s loud, “dynamic,” his friends say, he laughs at every joke she makes and uses each opportunity she gives him to do something crazy. This one time, Chaos used his fangs to crack open a bottle...
He always chews gum; folds and stretches, folds and stretches. You could give him a piece of red gum and a piece of green gum and by the end of the night he’d have a brown mess in his mouth. The nerve.
But, yeah, Sensitivity? You should meet her, really. I mean it. Just be careful when you shake her hand. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t tell her what I said about Chaos. You know how she is about that sort of thing.
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