And so my dreams begin—changed only to exaggerate the best parts.

Claimer: All ideas belong to my brain.

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Glowing Wonder

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The sunlight seeps in through the open window on light brown cabinets and coffee colored walls. The golden rays bounce on the wall, dazzling his face with an orange glow. He stands in the corner, his hair glimmering with gold sparks. His nose creates a bird-beaked shadow across his striking features. Across the room, her face burns orange…or pink; she's not sure which. She taunts him with a flip of her long dark hair, turning away with a bashful smile and a burning pulse in her cheeks. Her eyes alight on a cabinet high above her reach, and she remembers her purpose. The boy had simply caught her off guard, distracted her from the menial task she was sent to accomplish. His gaze follows her every move, but she has found her target and will not be moved from it.

The cabinet leers down at her from some height, and a rectangular table blocks her way. Determined, she sucks her breath, inching between the table and the wall, her arm raised towards the pale white knob. The cabinet is opened with difficulty, and her hand closes quickly on the object she seeks. She lets out a sigh as she can relax, leaning against the wall. Her feet tingle as the table blocks circulation. Her cheeks flicker with a peach glow, a mix with orange sun and the blush of embarrassment. The table has a will of its own, a weight much too heavy to move with only one free hand. Her muscles quiver as she turns to glance in his direction. Laughter is close behind the smile that pulls at his lips. She feels the need to join in, but she is edgy with nervous energy; the table still pins her to the wall.

Panic grows in her chest, but it fades quickly as his hurried footsteps draw him closer. The muscles in his lean arms flex as he grips the table and moves it with ease. She turns around quickly, her back now to the wall. Her mouth opens to thank him, but with a swift motion, he pushes the table firmly, but gently, against her thighs. The pulse in her veins quickens, but not with panic; her heart beats with anticipation. She squints as the sun drips into the corners of her eyes, and all she sees is his face. The table creaks as he leans forward, his eyes focused on her face alone. A crooked smile creases his lips as he pauses a moment, suspended before her. Her smile is his cue; the gap between them is closed. She shuts her eyes to the reflection of orange on his face, to the glowing wonder of his hair, and all the shivers of anticipation slowly fade as she kisses him back.

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Orange symbolizes passion,

and I'm passionate about reviews.