[insert title here]

For me, he would have dark hair and deep blue eyes the color of the night sky. He would be endlessly entertaining and make me laugh even when I'm mad. And his name? His name would be Jack.

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2. "I'm your only friend because you hate everyone else."

I spent the majority of time over at my friends house. The one and only friend I had: Kisa Suzuki. Kisa and her parents had moved from Tokyo when she was two. She was unfairly pretty, with almond-shaped brown eyes, a dark pixie cut and perfect skin. She looked small and frail, but do not be fooled, because I was. I called her stupid when we first met without knowing she'd been taking karate classes since before she could walk. We were two people who didn't really like people, so it worked out for the both of us. 

I was sat on her bed practising my violin solo when she'd asked me how my classes went.

"Oh, you know, the same. I have to write a paper on my ideal boyfriend in Health class."

Kisa snorted and leapt off the bed, skipping over to her closet which was probably the most beautiful thing in her room. It was white and had carvings of Japanese writing on it. The doors were framed with paintings of light pink cherry blossoms. I guess it helped when your mother was an interior decorator and your father was a professional artist. 

"Here, you should just use this since you don't actually have a computer." She smiled gently, setting a typewriter down on the bed covers. I blinked, setting down my violin.

"What the hell?"

Kisa laughed, running a hand through her short hair. "It's a typewriter, genius. You use it to type stuff." 

I smacked her upper arm playfully. "Yes, I know what a typewriter is, dummy. But why give it to me?"

Like everything in Kisa's room, it was perfect. I stared at the polished keys and the fresh paper. 

"Because I never use it and I probably won't have enough money for your birthday present, either."

I laughed, setting my violin inside its case. "Well thanks, cheapo. I'll get you something amazing for your birthday. Like a dog turd or something equally as amazing. God, remind me why I'm your friend again."

"I'm your friend, your only friend, because you hate everyone else."

We both laughed as I packed away my stuff and prepared myself for the trechorous two-minute walk home.

 

'Logan? Is that you?"

I sighed and dumped my stuff on my patchwork quilt. Unlike Kisa's house mine was a bit of wreck. Mum never cleaned or cooked or anything. She just laid in her bed and smoked. I hated her. 

"Yeah. I'm gonna make dinner, what do you want?" I started taking a pot out of one of the cupboards when I felt a weird tingle go through me.

I turned to the kitchen table where I'd left on the kitchen table. It was a small house, but horrible empty. And bare of love and laughter and everything a house should have.

"I'm not hungry!"

Of course not, mother. Because that would mean me having to bring you food and you having to see my face and having to face that you are a dissapointment to me. Not just me, but Dad, too.

So I just made pasta and sat down at the table with my chipped bowl and stupid spoon in front of the nicest object in this house. 

 

Pushing my empty bowl aside, I pulled the typewriter closer and started tapping out the first words that came to me. I liked the sound the keys made as I pressed them down, a sticky crunching sound that printed a small, black letter onto the paper. I kept typing. 

 

My perfect boy would not be perfect. He'd be funny and kind and in every way beautiful. But not perfect. I like to laugh so it would be lovely to have a guy that could make me laugh. Someone who doesn't take it too far. But I can have a good conversation with without being bored to death. I find intelligence attractive too, so I would want him to be smart. Then there's the matter of his appearance. I'm not big on good-looking guys, but it wouldn't hurt. For me, he would have dark hair and deep blue eyes, the colour of the ocean. . . 

 

 

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