"She sticks out like a sore thumb. You can't miss her," Jaebeom had said. So why did I feel like I had already missed her?

 

I sighed, sitting down on the water fountain's edge as the raging sun beat down on my black shirt. I mentally nagged at myself for picking a stupid color.

 

I plunged my hand into the fountain water, hoping it'd cool me off somehow. But before I was able to enjoy the cool feeling on my hand for more than a mere two seconds, I was suddenly tackled to the pavement--or at least roughly shoved.

 

Looking up angrily, I prepared myself for a conflict. However, all of my thoughts floated away in a little bubble, and amusement washed over me when I looked at the person who had pushed me to the ground.

 

It was a girl. She had her long, unruly, brown hair, styled in a messy braid. Her large eyes were black to the point where I could barely see her pupils, and she had cute baby fat cheeks. The way she pouted at me with her arms on her hips made it irresistably hard to not want to pinch them. On her head, she wore a blue-jean cabbie turned to the side. As an outfit, she wore a plain yellow oversized t-shirt over a white long-sleeve shirt with blue jean shorts, black and white striped knee-high socks, a small bunny plush-like cross-body purse, and what amused me the most were her mismatching pink and blue converses--as in, a pink one on her left foot, and a blue one on her right foot.

 

Jaebeom was right. She definitely stood out like a sore thumb. I smiled to myself, causing her to arch her brow quizzically.

 

"You." She frowned. "Don't you know better than to steal coins from the wishing fountain?"

 

"Huh?" I uttered, snapping out of my thoughts. What was this girl thinking? I was blown to the ground after a two second hand cooling in the water fountain because she thought I was stealing the coins inside. How do I describe a person like her? Odd on the outside, equally odd in the inside?

 

"Despicable." She scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest and strutting away.

 

That was how I met her--my pessimistic, misandrist love. Whether or not I had already began to love her at our first meeting . . . I don't know. But I do know that my life had been changed--like I was given a reason to live.