In a dimly lit room, lying down on her stomach on her bed, a young girl could be seen writing in an old book.
He loves me.
He loves me not.
He loves me.
He loves me not.
This young girl was Powder.
It's been a month since Powder met Art, and within this time, it was difficult not to develop feelings for him. He was kind, smart and cute, like the type of boy that would appear in her dreams.
She wanted to tell Art how she felt, but she was unsure if he felt the same.
Powder took the Mouser, a grenade with a blue cat drawn on its surface, from the side table. "Mhhh, should I ask him?" she asked. "Mouser, what do you think I should do?"
She covered her mouth and began moving the grenade as if it was talking. “No, don’t do it, Powder. What if he doesn’t like you back? And what if Mylo finds out?”
"You’re right, Mouser, we’ve only just met, and I’m sure Mylo will make fun of me," Powder nodded dejectedly.
“Of course I am,” Mouser replied. "But don't be upset. Who knows? Art might also have feelings for you. Stay positive!"
"I knew I could count on you. Anyway, He’s coming over tomorrow again, yay! I can’t wait!" Powder happily hugged Mouser...
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