I thrusted my chin out, mask forward, hidden identity firmly in place.
He recognized me instantly, called me by name.
Although surprised, I regrouped—shot back with waves of static and convolution.
He understood perfectly, called me by name.
I was flustered, but I gathered myself with determined slyness
and disavowed any knowledge he had of me.
He was unconcerned and nonchalant; he proceeded to paint an intimate portrait of my every curve.
"How can this be?!" I all but shouted, "how and from where do you know me?—know me so well!"
"Of course, I know you—" he said with plain certainty, "you're My Girl."
Written Content G.A.M. cc
Mysterious Girl Alena Dudaeva
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Shots Of Silver™ 2012