Martyna D?Mourir deserves to be understood.
--
Marty has a somewhat photogenic memory. It?s the reason she?s smart, but it?s book smart. She knows it. She knows she doesn?t have that social intelligence that makes Elly so easily popular, seem so much prettier and desirable at times. Her compensation has always been to study harder, trying to find the answer to her personal problems inside books. It never worked but she learned other things?many other things. Learning was a means to an end she never reached and she hates those books now for not giving her the answers.
She found love elsewhere, something to be passionate about. She couldn?t be passionate about learning when it failed her. Lemare stole one of those hated books from her hand one day when she was lounging under a tree at the University she attended. She stared, too surprised to be angry and do anything but just gape. She never knew hot to function around males and here this one was standing above her with her book in his hands. She didn?t know what Disney?s Beauty and the Beast was, but Lemar was playing a very dashing Guston.
?You look bored.?
Her face screwed up in a frown, she could never hide her displeasure from rude people, ?I?m not bored. I was reading and it was very interesting.? She sat up more from her incline against the tree trunk, brushing pieces of grass off her paint splattered designer jeans.
?You look bored,? she simply gawked. ?If it was so interesting, what did you just read??
?Well?now,? her face turned red enough to burn. ?I don?t know! You made me loose my focus!? He simply laughed in her face and asked her to get coffee with him. With cheeks still burning, she agreed.
--
He didn?t mind that she was socially awkward, he preferred small groups in coffee houses and grungy basements of friends? houses. He was intrigued by how observant she was, remembering things about people that no one else would even bother to notice like how he had written a paper on the ideals of democracy for the introduction to literature class they had been in together. She fixed his home electronic system and they painted a new mural on the walls of her bedroom together. He let her sing backup in a few songs for his band, just playing around, and she helped him write lyrics despite her protestation and vehement hate of poetry.
They weren?t in love. Not yet.
--
Marty has a somewhat photogenic memory. It?s the reason she?s smart, but it?s book smart. She knows it. She knows she doesn?t have that social intelligence that makes Elly so easily popular, seem so much prettier and desirable at times. Her compensation has always been to study harder, trying to find the answer to her personal problems inside books. It never worked but she learned other things?many other things. Learning was a means to an end she never reached and she hates those books now for not giving her the answers.
She found love elsewhere, something to be passionate about. She couldn?t be passionate about learning when it failed her. Lemare stole one of those hated books from her hand one day when she was lounging under a tree at the University she attended. She stared, too surprised to be angry and do anything but just gape. She never knew hot to function around males and here this one was standing above her with her book in his hands. She didn?t know what Disney?s Beauty and the Beast was, but Lemar was playing a very dashing Guston.
?You look bored.?
Her face screwed up in a frown, she could never hide her displeasure from rude people, ?I?m not bored. I was reading and it was very interesting.? She sat up more from her incline against the tree trunk, brushing pieces of grass off her paint splattered designer jeans.
?You look bored,? she simply gawked. ?If it was so interesting, what did you just read??
?Well?now,? her face turned red enough to burn. ?I don?t know! You made me loose my focus!? He simply laughed in her face and asked her to get coffee with him. With cheeks still burning, she agreed.
--
He didn?t mind that she was socially awkward, he preferred small groups in coffee houses and grungy basements of friends? houses. He was intrigued by how observant she was, remembering things about people that no one else would even bother to notice like how he had written a paper on the ideals of democracy for the introduction to literature class they had been in together. She fixed his home electronic system and they painted a new mural on the walls of her bedroom together. He let her sing backup in a few songs for his band, just playing around, and she helped him write lyrics despite her protestation and vehement hate of poetry.
They weren?t in love. Not yet.