It all started with History.

It is nice to get back into the rhythm of writing and posting. Enjoy this short and sweet bit of fiction.

Casey was fifteen. He had floppy blonde hair that fell in his eyes. He had to flick his whole head to see, but the errant strands still hid his green eyes. They weren’t all green, they had flecks of brown and hazel scattered in them. Jennifer didn’t know what was worse, that she could stare at him for hours when he wasn’t looking, or that she couldn’t look at him for more then a few seconds when he did turn to her.

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