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This is day six of my watch, and she is just as exotic as she was when I began. Today she wears a satin shirt with sleeves that billow as she moves. Henna snakes up her arm, it’s stain darker than the brown of her skin. She’s beautiful, but it’s not her looks that transfix me so. It’s how she carries herself.

The girl moves with confidence, bordering on temerity. Her sense of self-assurance crashes into those nearby like a wave, threatening to pull them along behind her. Some call it impudence. They say it’s not good for girls to be this bold, but what they avoid admitting is that they’re the ones who fear. They’re petrified of how her light changes their lives. It frightens them to think of how they’d have to reshape themselves to fit into the world she’d create.

So instead of acknowledging their own anxieties, they project them onto her in an attempt to stifle her flames. To prevent her from growing into the raging wildfire she’s destined to become. However, she is a star whose light shines long after it’s the source is gone, and try as they might, it cannot be dimmed.

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