Spots

I see spots, she said.

And everywhere she went, red, yellow and greenish blue spots, little, huge and just about average, throbbed sore and aching before her until she practically peeled her eyes away from the pulsing spots.

They followed her everywhere, the little, huge and just about average spots. They screamed at her from shiny billboards in flashy golden lettering, A Potion to Magically Straighten Your Hairs, and Snakes and Shakes, hissed the shady store down the street. From recieved to expresso, from goverment to grammer, the spots kept bubbling and bursting belligerently before her. So she pricked them and she poked them till she very nearly choked on them. The Es and the silent Ts dissolved in tiny pools on her now very moist pillow. Tired of splashing about in them she got up and left all in a huff down the street, round the corner, way past the shady store and stopped in sudden wonderment when a quaint little man from a quaint little shop waved out to her most exuberantly!

And as she blinked, adjusting still to the spotless little shop, what should the quaint little man hand her but her favourite book!

Eyes all alight she hugged it tight and ran all the way back home, not stopping till she was quite out of breath. And opening only now the brand new dictionary, she lay snuggly down between the crisp white sheets drifting into dreams of spotless shelves and spotless minds where all was well with the world and the letters fitted in just right.