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Only a Girl

By singinginthegardn, Cowell, MA

Just because I’m all “theirs” doesn’t mean I can’t hear.

I’m not dead, you know.

I hear the frantic whispers behind the closed door. Some may say this is wrong, but for all I care eavesdropping is a source. A way to receive information. Or did the goody two-shoes not learn that one at her private lessons?

The whispers rise to shouts. I just roll my eyes. Probably arguing over another pony she would like.

Suddenly, I hear a smack. Firm, solid. Like skin hitting skin. The sound cracks throughout the castle like a clap of thunder. My heart practically stops. I panic and bustle away down the hall with a tray of teacups grasped tightly in my hands.

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