Single-Pringle

I walk into the cafe, back first a cardboard box in my hands. I see my reflection in the window, long, wavish red hair, forest green eyes, pale skin, lots of freckles, average height. I plonk the cardboard box on the table. What does the box contain, I hear you ask. It contains all that lovie-dovie stuff, making single pringles such as myself feel incredibly glum.

My name's Ruth, I'm fifteen years old. Oh, and there's the face that I'm single. Yay.

I pick out a cheesy heart and stick it to the wall, as I stick, darkness over comes me and I fall. I fall hard to the ground, in the middle of a cafe.

The End

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