The exterior food court seemed perfect to work on her next 'creation', though Marie didn't really plan out such things.
Pencil went to paper, and she just rolled with the result, for better or for worse. She climbed down from the ledge and went to a nice, isolated picnic table away in a corner, then set down her notebook and went to work.
"Sparkly butterfly,
wings of golden silk,
dispense truth to cleanse the-
Marie stopped suddenly, her pencil frozen in middle of finishing the 'e' in her sentence.
A loose nail on the end of the bench had pinched her fair skin, and torn at her stockings.
"Of all the poorly maintained-..." Silently fuming, Marie set down the pencil, clenched her fist, and-
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