The House On Mango Street Short Story

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Prologue
It’s said when you meet your soulmate you instantly know. Your hands sweet, you can feel your heart race through even the thickest shirt, your pupils dilate five times the natural limit and you stutter over all your words. Once they are gone all you can think about is the next time you will get to see the. They will be all you think about and ultimately they will make you the best possible version of yourself. You will love them unconditionally and they will love you unconditionally. It’s the type of love where you can see them kill a man and still defend them saying they are innocent.
When I met my soulmate however, this was not the case.

Yes, I loved her unconditionally and she made me the best version of myself, but in the beginning
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Daisy Speranza. She is my age and I have known her since middle school. I use the word “known” loosely because in the six years we’ve known each other we couldn’t’ve said more than 20 words to each other. The longest conversation we ever had with Daisy was when she got knocked over in the hall and I helped her pick her books up. She said thanks with a timid laugh I said no problem with the same timid laugh. Before I can say anything else she was gone with the wind. I would talk to her more, she seems nice but we never really get the opportunity to see each other. We have a decent amount of classes together but none of our friends overlap and the activities we participate in our polar opposite. I am mainly into the athletics most of my friends are athletes, whether it be field hockey to football. She was more academically orientated with her free time. She was in clubs like mock trial and the business club FBLA (as were her friends).

Daisy has light brown hair but in the sun it almost looks like it has a tint of red. She has soft brown eyes with tints of green that are approximately an inch too big for her face. She had light freckles that swarmed the bridge of her nose and nearly clear skin. She didn’t look like she wore much make up, the basics. Her trademark was her red lipstick that she would never leave the house

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