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Francine -a woman twenty years of age, an unsung hero at her college with glory ready to knock any moment from now, known for her professional nature and impeccable fashion sense among her peers- stared in silence as her emotions bubbled inside her at what could only be considered as one of the worst Halloween costumes she had ever seen.
Her cheeks became red and started burn from the sun peering through her window, indicating how much time was left before her trick-or-treating adventures five years in the making would commence. However, the ginger wanted to call the entire thing off as she glared at her mother who continued to hold Francine’s supposed attire by its hanger.
Grinning from ear to ear, her mother asked “So, what do you think?”
The redhead could only respond by throwing the first object she could grab at her mother which happened to be her dress shirt from earlier today, reminding Francine that she was only wearing a bra from the waist up.
Trying to hide her blush for new reasons, Francine snapped. “WHY WOULD YOU EVEN THINK THAT I WOULD WEAR THIS!?!?”
Her mother’s smile began to fall, clearly taken aback by the volume change in her daughter’s voice, but she calmly asked “Doesn’t this fit your criteria?”
Francine glanced back at the outfit another time. The twenty-year old requested her mother to find a Halloween costume for her as she studied for her midterms. While the ginger had gained many acquaintances during her time at college, she was an outsider in every social circle until she met a few classmates nearly two years her junior though they sometimes acted like they were just entering high school. The classmates in question had been close friends for nine years yet they welcomed Francine with open arms. They were also hopeless in every academic activity they attempted which might have been a reason for Francine’s current companionship but she really didn’t care. It was nice to chat with them during their off-hours and to have people listen to her opinions that didn’t revolve around calculus. Francine took every opportunity to bond with them and this year’s Halloween would be no different. However, studies came first which was why the ginger relied on her mother for the costume hunt with the guidelines she provided. It needed to be interesting in its design, have some history behind it and be a little daring to Francine’s standards.
The twenty-year old couldn’t outright say ‘no’ to her mother’s inquiry. Her outfit was interesting to say the least and most certainly daring but the only sense of history that Francine could see was the thin layer of dust on every square inch of fabric.
The redhead began to pick her teeth, groaning from the question that would soon come out of her mouth. “How exactly is this related to history?”
Francine’s mother snorted a little before saying, “Well, it’s related to our history. I met your father while wearing this!”
“EWW,” Francine shouted. She resisted the urge to push her mother out of the room as her actions might result in that retched outfit brushing up against her bare skin.
Holding the costume as if it were a shield, Francine’s mother protested, “Don’t worry! I didn’t do anything naughty in this and it’s been washed several times since anyway. I just thought it matched what you were looking for. Plus......... It would mean a lot to me if you’d wear it.”
Francine wanted to turn away from her mother but their eyes were locked. Her mother still gave the hopeful grin she was known for wearing, a little toned down from her grin earlier. Francine really didn’t want to give in so easily but that smile was also known for how it could make anyone drown in guilt and Francine was no exception. The redhead also began to feel guilty about the one guideline she omitted from her request: perfection. It’s understandable as to why someone would leave this out when hunting for a costume-How do you explain ‘perfection’ to another person?- yet Francine still hoped her mother would follow her unspoken rule. Unsurprisingly, her choice was far from perfect and the twenty-year old did not feel like she had the right to blame her. Her face began to heat up as she mentally beat herself over with a hockey stick and imagined what her colleagues would say tonight. Could it be deemed childish to worry so much over a simple costume? Possibly but Francine wanted this chance to finally receive what she considered a “friend” for the first time since tenth grade. The twenty-year old believed that most people would side with her once they saw her mother’s choice:
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