My Guardian Archangel-3

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I expected you to be just as angry as I was when I made my way back to your desk to sit. But you weren’t mad... of course. It was because I was with you! You were the only person who wanted to be with me 24/7.

I sat down in the desk in front of you, but turned the chair around to face you. My jaw was clenched, and I sighed, “So what monument would you like to do?”

You smiled and sat up straight. “Don’t be angry,” you said coolly. “After all, you’re the one who knows me.”

“I don’t know you!” I objected, crossing my arms at my chest.

You chuckled softly and shook your head, frustrating me more. “You obviously do, or you wouldn’t know my name.”

“You knew my name!” I spat defensively.

You just shrugged and leaned forward, sighing. “Well, I actually do know you,” you whispered, breaking through my comfort zone.

You almost convinced me, but there was no way in heck you could just know someone.

“Oh really?” I asked as I pursed my lips, ready to prove him wrong. “What’s my favorite color?”

“Purple,” you responded quickly yet smoothly.

“Lucky guess,” I told him, blinking. “What’s my favorite animal?”

“Seahorse,” you sighed as if you’d told me a million times already.

“What kind?” I said, cocking an eyebrow.

“Denise’s Pygmy,” you answered with a curt nod.

“Favorite food?” I said slowly. You were really beginning to freak me out.

“Crab legs.”

“Favorite car?”

“Nissan Sentra.”

“Favorite singer?”

“Justin Bieber.”


“Yours or Justin’s?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Mine,” I groaned, rolling my eyes.

“November 6th, 1997,” you responded, pronouncing every syllable with clarity.

“Well what’s my favorite actor?”

“James Roday.”

“Last question,” I said confidently. “What’s my favorite type of soda?” This was a trick question; I absolutely hated soda.

“You hate soda,” you finally answered with a smirk.

My mouth gaped open. How did you know all this while all I knew was your name? “Do you stalk me or something?” I demanded, feeling violated.

You considered the question for a moment. You opened your mouth to answer, but only to close it immediately after. After, you only shrugged, which made me want to bawl. You were so scary, and the fact that you knew everything about me was just so wrong. I could have asked what bra size I was and you’d probably know the answer. It was terrifying.

“So, what about the Eiffel Tower?” you asked, abruptly changing the subject and dragging me out of my thoughts.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“For a monument?” you sighed, pointing at a picture on the paper that was handed out.

I shook my head. “Right. Sure. But... if you don’t want to work with me, then I can do it on my own and put your name on it.” I was praying you’d say that sounded good but you could give me no relief, could you?

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