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Prom night, when you stand there by the gym chairs dressed up like a dork, and you feel almost like you could be cool, you could almost be a real person, you're finishing another cookie which you wash down with awful, sickly sweet punch, and you look for someone to dance with. Not because you want to dance, but because you have always wanted someone to dance with, and nobody has ever asked. And there, across the room, in a knot, are all the girls in your class you have ever lusted after, all the ones who never asked, looking more beautiful than they ever have. And the one girl you want to ask to dance has just come up to them, and from where you're standing, you can tell that she is trying so so desperately to fit in with these beautiful not-yet-women that if you were to interrupt, she would hate you forever, like they do.

You looked for another hour or so, which took about twelve seconds. You turned to get another cup of punch. You weren't looking when she looked over her shoulder at you and saw the knot of guys near you and dismissed the whole thing as hopeless.

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