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By trancer


Sofia didn't like being nervous, or uncertain. She'd been raised to believe those were signs of weakness. And, if there was anything Sofia hated, it was being seen as weak. But, there she stood, palms slick with sweat, heart in throat, or somewhere near her stomach which was twisted with knots around her ankles.

She was also being stupid and irrational. More words associated with weakness. All night she'd been a bumbling, stumbling, stuttering mass of idiocy that couldn't say the right words or do the right thing. Veered left when she KNEW she should have gone right. Left her wallet on the table in her living room. And, to her horror of horrors upon taking her seat and looking down at her shoes, realized she'd put on two different colored socks.

"I like it," Sara situated herself in the seat next to Sofia, arms holding the largest bucket of popcorn Sofia had ever seen.


"Your socks. It makes you," she smirked playfully. "Quirky."

"I think 'disastrous' would be more fitting," Sofia grumbled, unable to stop the blush coloring her cheeks. "I seem unable to do anything right at the moment, or today, or ever."

"I wouldn't say that."

The lights dimmed. The giant red curtain hummed softly as it slowly parted open. Light from the projector illuminating the screen.



Sara leaned closer, eyes light and relaxed. "I believe this is the part where you put your arm around my shoulder. Unless you think you can't do that right, too."

"Oh no," Sofia smiled for the first time the entire day, sliding her arm up and then around Sara's shoulders. "I'm definitely good at that."

The End

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