Spain

His parents did not know that they named their son after two famous empires. Or perhaps they were not that famous after all, as the grand majority of the general population could not identify that his name consisted of two of Europe’s greatest superpowers. Possibly, no one had wanted to point it out, in fear of a chance rejection that was a smile and shake of the head. Conceivably, one may avoid looking too smart as many nowadays dread. But as a history buff with a distaste in dull-wittedness, I dubbed him Spain.

His hair was brown and his skin was fair. The curls swirled together in a heap, giving the impression of a bedhead, washing over slightly tanned skin, button nose, and then framing thin lips. The voice which came from them mimicked his personality, both of which radiating positive energy. It was high and smooth with an energetic bounce that would not fail to get your heart jumping as well. Being a hundred mile per hour speaker set him apart furthermore, as he compliments you on your shirt, recalls the last show he saw the color scheme in, then proceeds to spoil the ending for you.

He would wrap you in a hug as you wailed,

“Spaaiiin!” But alas the wad of energy would not hear you as he drags you into whatever was happening in the group of people three social circles over. He had that gift. The ability being his draw like a magnet, which pulls people into his contagious personality. His heart was big and in it were all those he came across, including them in his bright, friendly realm.

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