Contiguous
Michelle rests on the couch, legs curled up underneath her. All the space around her is filled with a sense of calm as she stares into the distance. Her hands are placed on her knees, relaxed for the moment. When someone enters the room she looks up slowly, turning amber eyes on them. They used to be hazel, but were lightened due to dusks and dawns spent staring at the sun. Then she’ll smile, a smile filled with sarcasm and excitement. Her hands come alive, extemporizing with every instinctively perfect word that she utters.
She never seems to move, just appears somewhere different without ever exerting any effort. Smooth, swift strides that go unnoticed by even those who know her. Those who don’t? They may not even notice she’s there at all. In a stranger’s presence her outgoing hand motions and malicious grins are bottled up immediately into receptacles of shy smiles and downcast eyes. She hears every word that passes from everyone’s lips and by watching her carefully you can tell what she thinks of them. Should she hear something erroneous, her brow will furrow and her eyes will stare at one fixed spot, containing her wishes to correct it. She doesn’t desire confrontation with someone she doesn’t know. Michelle knows things about subjects that most people would never even consider, all the angles and all arguments. Hours spent researching on her computer are also partly to blame for her worsening eyesight. And she knows the importance of listening; by not putting yourself in the spotlight you can observe those around you.
The border between the confident, secure, but never supercilious young woman and the quietly intelligent girl is a nebulous one. She delights in suprising others with traits of the side of her they don’t know, but is cautious in revealing them. And as the sun begins to set, she is lost to reality. She has to squint to see the view properly, but in this world of knowledge and security she has created for herself, the vulnerabilites of her being are hidden from the world she knows so much about, yet has so little desire to be involved in.
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This was an essay I had to write Jr. Year. We were supposed to try to imitate Fitzgerald's style. :D
She never seems to move, just appears somewhere different without ever exerting any effort. Smooth, swift strides that go unnoticed by even those who know her. Those who don’t? They may not even notice she’s there at all. In a stranger’s presence her outgoing hand motions and malicious grins are bottled up immediately into receptacles of shy smiles and downcast eyes. She hears every word that passes from everyone’s lips and by watching her carefully you can tell what she thinks of them. Should she hear something erroneous, her brow will furrow and her eyes will stare at one fixed spot, containing her wishes to correct it. She doesn’t desire confrontation with someone she doesn’t know. Michelle knows things about subjects that most people would never even consider, all the angles and all arguments. Hours spent researching on her computer are also partly to blame for her worsening eyesight. And she knows the importance of listening; by not putting yourself in the spotlight you can observe those around you.
The border between the confident, secure, but never supercilious young woman and the quietly intelligent girl is a nebulous one. She delights in suprising others with traits of the side of her they don’t know, but is cautious in revealing them. And as the sun begins to set, she is lost to reality. She has to squint to see the view properly, but in this world of knowledge and security she has created for herself, the vulnerabilites of her being are hidden from the world she knows so much about, yet has so little desire to be involved in.
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This was an essay I had to write Jr. Year. We were supposed to try to imitate Fitzgerald's style. :D