Emma

(sorry, AGAIN, that I haven't posted for, what, six days? Anyway, this is my writing assignment for last week. I think I might step up the writing assignment postage in future...at least until summer break. Then I'll, like, write, write, write. And you'll have to make me. Also, a note: I think I might do a series of these things as sort of prelude/background/whatevers for Ketchup. This one got me a rather great score--er, grade...in Writing...)

Emma wasn't your average girl. This is mainly owing to the fact that no such thing exists, but also to the fact that she was above average, in several ways. First, she enjoyed history rather a lot. One couldn't easily find the reason for it, if they asked her, but it was because she enjoyed to see how things happened. Essentially, she enjoyed seeing how or why the good guys won when they did, and why the bad guys won or lost when they did.

The day I met her, she was dressed rather simply, a reasonably long skirt and a green T-shirt. Her hair, which would be about waist-length, were she to wear it that way, ever, was in a rather messy bun, the majority of which was sticking out a good few inches.

Emma's hair was a decidedly potent juxtaposition to her sense of organization and order in her life. One would be astounded how frequently she would find something within half a minute of needing it, tops. However, she was of the firm opinion to the exact opposite extreme. She recognized, of course, that her physical belongings were, on the large part, in a stiflingly reasoned order, but she never got over how ransacked her mind would look, should it ever be visualized. She would be relieved, several decades later, to be sure that it had never happened, to her knowledge, and, thereby, rested in as much peace as could be expected.

Before she did, though, she lived a rather complicated and confusing life, the intricacies of which I shall

not go into in more detailed form.

She did not enjoy math, and the more advanced forms of it, on the whole. Occasionally, Algebra would throw her a set of problems she actually enjoyed figuring out, but, usually, no such problems were to be found.

Emma greatly enjoyed using the English language in ways never before imagined, and probably never to be imagined after. She frequently responded to questions with nonsense words, made-up acronyms, or answers that made no sense in the context, like "Except on weekends," and, "not without cream."

As pertains to cream, in fact, Emma enjoyed coffee a lot, but seldom let up on the cream, and much less so on the sugar.

Emma was somewhere between fifteen and seventeen years of age, had trouble understanding the most elementary aspects of modern sports, and, in general, was told more than frequently that imagining her in shorts or jeans had become patently difficult. That always made her laugh.

(a couple of grammatical/spelling errors were fixed. Aside from that, this thing's fresh from the pen--er, keyboard.)

!Noah!