The Girl with the Curly Hair

One night in college, I was at a party. It may have been Halloween, and I may or may not have been dressed up as a ninja. I can’t remember. I started talking to this girl. She had dark, curly hair. She paid me a compliment, and I told her that she was beautiful. She looked at me the way you always hoped that a beautiful girl might look at you.

A friend of the girl came up to her and whispered something in her ear. I tried to introduce myself to the friend, but she ignored me. The girl with the curly hair looked at me again, but the expression had changed. They both turned around and walked away. I always thought that I would see her again sometime, somewhere. I never did.

I didn’t know the friend. But I had seen her one time before. She was alone, tripping on acid down by a stream.

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