The Prince and The Scientist

He was indeed hard to miss. The Prince was very tall, you see. I, in my shorter statue only went to his upper bicep. His face was young, full and attractive. Shoulder length curls are tucked neatly behind his ears, creating almost a sandy bushel in the back of his head. The Prince’s physique was that of a baseball player, lean but with a certain weight to his step as his dress shoes strode across the tile floor of the hall.

I looked up at him, noticing the gentle folds in his white button up. The Prince’s hair was flattened slightly from where a baseball cap recently rested.

Walking up quickly behind him was a blonde girl. The Scientist. She looked busy, bustling about with papers and binders. Her great framed glasses slipped down her nose as she furiously worked to keep her bag on her shoulder. On The Scientist’s papers were notes and numbers and chicken scratch letters.

For the next few moments, I pattered next to them. I observed these strangers and they paid me no mind.


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