climmer

“How much farther?” Glimmer whined.

Clove rolled her eyes, “Ten hours.”

“That’s not funny! You’ve been leading me to this "surprise” for almost fifteen minutes now!“

"We’re walking on the beach, Glim! It’s not like it’s hard. And the view is amazing.”

“Still.”

“We’re almost there, okay? And then all this will be worth it.”

“Promise?” The blonde smiled.

“Promise,” the other girl crossed her finger over her heart.

And now, a tap dance: my thoughts regarding Climmer.

The blinding white spotlight plummets onto the empty stage, as thousands of people hold their breath in anticipation. Dust motes swim gaily in the vacant beam as, from the red velvet wings, a lean and pale girl confidently emerges. Her legs briskly carry her to the centre of the stage where she primly stands behind the podium, shakes back her dark hair, and organizes her notes.

This was it. The moment so many had been waiting for, rigid in their seats as they wondered what exactly was to happen. They knew the speaker was fiery and passionate, wild and unpredictable like a raging electrical storm. The intensity of her strike remained to be seen; but, no matter the magnitude, it was going to be quite the spectacle.

Silence. A pin dropping. A tiny violin. More silence.

And then… Erin, the speaker, drew a shallow breath as she began her speech.

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