jane-isms

Che looked at her, “Really?”

She nodded.

“Who are you?” Che asked.

“Jane.”

“Pleased to met you,” Che said.

Jane laughed, her round face glowing like an autumn moon.

“I’m sorry, but life is that complicated,” Che sighed, “what makes you think you know the secret? What makes you think you’re smarter than everyone else?”

Jane paused, “One doesn’t need to know the answers to know the answer is simple.”

Jane raised all 152 centimeters of herself off the bench, tucked the red leather-bound book under her left arm, “Good to meet you Che. Perhaps someday you’ll understand. Perhaps someday you’ll look in the mirror and see the miracle I see.”

Che started to respond, but nothing came out.


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