Plated hair and leggings. The scratching sound of a blade dragging along
the ice to stop. Dark mascara and glossy eyes. Floating along the ice
that had been freshly laid but still wet where hired boots had been
rushed onto the rink. Music filling the wonderland and Christmas trees
hanging from the roof.
It's now Christmas Day, and this is Hanna's Christmas Eve Special, but it's all good. More beautiful writing, from the girl who's always thinking.
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