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The Thinker

Part of my endless search to discover a character that fascinates me enough to dedicate an entire story to their antics.

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Her feet were always a little bit dirty, her hair a little out of place and she tended to project an air of general neglect. It wasn’t for lack of caring, upon occasion she would catch a glimpse of herself in a reflective surface, sigh in resignation and fix the misaligned buttons on her slightly oversized shirt. Her hand might make a motion towards the pin falling out of her hair, but then a thought would occur and replace the previous one with such overwhelming ease that she would immediately forget what she was about to do, her hand falling limply to her side, its task unfulfilled.
It wasn’t that she didn’t care; there were simply more important things to focus on.