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by Stephanie Alfaia
“People fascinate me,” she told him, looking down at her soup stirring inanimately.
“I like to lose myself while attempting to figure them out.”
But she was lying. 
Deep inside she agreed with him, she understood what he meant by “we’re all the same.” 
He had reason in saying it might seem like there are so many different people in the world 
“but there are only so many templates.”
What template was he molded from?
Who was he?
Who did he want to be?
Where did he want to go?
What was he thinking?
She caught herself excusing his ambiguity 
by calling him mysterious.
Another lie.
Deep inside she knew he was a moment.
An exchange of auras.
Yes, temporary in length.
Yet, permanent in affect.
Their energies were bound.
She knew he had no intention of seeing her again 
but she liked to pretend.
She enjoyed watching his eyes look away when she inquired
“Can I have your number?”
His face said it all: no. But here. 
He typed quickly and slid the phone back to her briskly 
but she liked to pretend.
She enjoyed telling herself they would see each other again –
she smiled at the thought of 

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