The Little Red-Haired Girl

He took one more look around at his desk. The overflow of crumpled papers in and around the wastebasket and glanced down at the cream colored envelope in his hand. It had taken the better part of the morning to choose the right words to say to her. Or were they? He pushed the new wave of doubt out of his head. He was on a mission. Confidently striding down the stairs and out to the sidewalk he made his way around the corner to where she lived. He barely felt the breeze blowing on this unseasonably warm February day as he approached the mailbox outside her house, placed the letter inside the box, and walked away. He had done it. He felt a wave of pride and happiness, which dissipated as soon as he rounded the corner and saw his house. It was replaced by a sinking feeling of sudden nerves and uncertainty. As it overwhelmed him, he turned around and ran back around the corner only to see the object of his affection standing there. He was instantly mesmerized by her red hair blowing around her face as she opened his letter and read it. Thinking he was going to have a heart attack, he placed a hand on the nearby stone wall to try to find support as the Earth fell away beneath his feet. Suddenly he stood back up as he saw her smile to herself, clutch the letter to her chest, and skip back into her house. “It’s a good Valentine’s Day.” Charlie Brown thought to himself as he walked back home, his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

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