The Horizon of Legend


 It was easy to spot her. All you needed
to do was look at her socks. They were never a matching pair. One would
be green while the other would be blue. One would reach her knee while
the other barely touched her ankle. Every other part of her was perfect,
but never the socks. They were her micro act of rebellion. 

Her eyebrows were a shade darker than
her hair. They were thick and almost horizontal, emphasizing the depth
of her eyes. She was rather handsome than beautiful. Her face was
captivating by reason of a certain frankness of expression and a
contradictory subtle play of features. Her manner was engaging.

He heard the loud impact before he ever
saw the result. It had been so loud that it had actually made him jump
back in his seat. As soon as he recovered from the surprise, he saw the
crack in the windshield. It seemed to be an analogy of the current
condition of his life.

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