Through The Looking Glass: A Love Story
Garth Chigger spotted her across the headless room. Her name was Celery. Celery Mandolin. And she was proud. Proud in her denim tube-haltertop capri-jean unitard.
Garth studied her with longing but also with a calm steely reserve reflecting his other passion, Civil War cannons.
Celery Mandolin feigned indifference, staring out the shiny window.
Her bosoms heaved like nonchalant ice cubes. But the glass reflected only the longing of her heart. There was something about this Garth Chigger, she admitted to herself, something she could not get away from.
Celery waved passionately at Garth, with her good hand.
Garth studied her with longing but also with a calm steely reserve reflecting his other passion, Civil War cannons.
Celery Mandolin feigned indifference, staring out the shiny window.
Her bosoms heaved like nonchalant ice cubes. But the glass reflected only the longing of her heart. There was something about this Garth Chigger, she admitted to herself, something she could not get away from.
Celery waved passionately at Garth, with her good hand.
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