Fragile-Personal Narrative

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We arrived at a small café. At the counter we bought two orders of fish and chips wrapped in packets of paper. I followed Marisol outside to a bricked patio. The café tables stood under colorful canvas umbrellas. Marisol chose one furthest from the café’s backdoor, seeming to breathe easier now we were off the street.
The aroma of golden battered fish and crispy chips made my stomach rumble, and I realized just how hungry I was. I knew it was from using my mage powers.
A bottle of malt vinegar sat on the table, and Marisol tilted the bottle to sprinkle some on her food. She offered me the vinegar. I took it and did the same, figuring she hadn’t led me wrong yet.
Using my fingers I broke off a bite of steamy, hot fish and popped it in my mouth.
…show more content…
But that was a long time ago.” Marisol chewed on a red licorice whip. “I love watching them.”
I dug my hand into the bag of sweets, as Marisol called them, we had bought along the way and dug out a milk chocolate egg. “What do they use the barges for now?”
“All kinds of things. Sometimes they have races. Those are the best. Also there are river cruises with tea and luncheons. They also charter them out for parties and weddings. I could watch them for hours.” She had that dreamy sound in her voice, like when she talked about her stories.
She retrieved a bag of oyster crackers from the bag of sweets and threw some into the air. A flock of sea gulls darted for the crackers, hovering like gulls can, and snapped them out of the air. “I always buy something to feed them,” she said watching them with a faint smile. “Wouldn’t it be nice to stay here and not have to go home?” The question startled me so much, I didn’t answer for a few seconds. This was one of the few times Marisol had talked about home. She always changed the subject when I brought it up. All I knew was her parents were divorced and she lived with her Dad, brother and

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