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Nicolette Worthing

"What?!" I heard the door open and shouted, still facing the mirror looking at my tear stained face. 

"Sorry. I thought I heard something." Yeah, well I just threw my cell phone onto the ground and crushed it with my black boots. Why do people always need to explore things out of the ordinary? They happen everyday, nothing new. Out of the ordinary is what's ordinary. 

I didn't say anything. I started fixing my hair and the image of Patricia Elliot reflected in the mirror. She saw me, I saw her. Oh great, she knows. She's taken one look at me, first time in ten years, and she's already got me figured out. 

"I'm fine. He was a jerk anyway." 

"Whoa Nico. Slow down, what's going on?" Isn't it obvious what's going on? I wish I was Patricia right now. So content and without worry. What is wrong with me? I didn't do anything wrong. He did. 

"I've just had a bad morning." 

"Seems to be more than just that to me. Who's he?" He is my worst mistake. 

"Jacob. Can we talk about something else please? Have you registered yet?" Pull yourself together Nico. 

"No. Do you want to go together?" I nodded and straightened my shirt. 

"So Nico, you haven't changed much. Look as fresh as ever." Patricia as I remember her - always trying to make things better. Maybe I should start living like that, and stop worrying about the getting my manicures and pedicures. 

"No I don't actually, the Nicolette Davidson from high school looked a lot better than this. But thanks. You look pretty good yourself." She really did. So what if her bag was last season's Prada that didn't quite match with her shoes. She was happy, and that was written all over her face. The reward of going to church every Sunday I guess. Patricia Gregory is one of God's favorites. And I'm the devil's. 

The End

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