This choice: It's Bebe Watson, a quiet, geeky, freckled, redheaded bookworm. • Go Back... The door snaps shut, and the intruder leans back against it. She's a young woman wearing a heavy brown sweater, thick beige leggings, and mud-colored leather clogs. Her hands tremble at her sides. Her knees quiver and threaten collapse. She closes her eyes and brings her head to her chest. Her frazzled orange-red curls bob and bounce. She pushes the thickly-rimmed glasses up and brushes a hand across her pale, freckled cheek. She rocks gently and seems to be muttering something quietly.
The four-hundred foot tall redhead takes a deep breath and whispers nervously, "I can't believe I'm doing this. I shouldn't be here. I- I- get it together, Bebe." She opens her eyes and her magnified eyes grow ten times larger, "There it is! The matter transposer!" She clamps her hands over her resounding surprise, gasping to catch her breath. Her fingertips vibrate against her pink lips, and once she's cleared her mouth, she asks, "Is that- Scott? Scott, is that you?"
Her memory perfectly recorded, she knows you more than you know her. The bookish redhead comes forward, taller than nearly all the buildings in town, descends onto her knees, and lowers her face inches from you. The tip of her pointed, pixie-like nose practically bumps you off the transposer. Her breath moves in rapid, warm bursts from her open mouth. "Scott, it's me Bebe. You remember, Bebe Watson, from Electromagnetic Dynamics II last semester. Seems to me like you've had a mishap with your molecular dimensionality." She laughs. Puffs of air snort into her nostrils. "What I mean, of course, is - you're tiny." indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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