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The Journals of Raymond Brooks  7


                  “Are you sure I'm interviewing the right person?” Asked the
                 interviewer through the microphone on her blouse signaling
                 with her hand to cut the cameras. "This teenage girl couldn't
                 possibly be …” she added. She looked again at the person before
                 her, blinking twice to make sure she wasn’t imagining. Up on
                 the chair bounced a petite teenage girl, smiling charmingly. She
                 seemed  ordinary  to  the  interviewer  —  beautiful  to  be  sure,

                 but ordinary; nothing but grayed hair to signify Jaunee's true
                 age. The cameraman nodded his approval; it was her. She had
                 a chiseled heart-shaped face, almost symmetric, and her skin
                 was of pale complexion, without blemish. As she was drawn
                 by a master artist rather than born. Were it not for the sadness
                 in her eyes, and the worry-lines around her lips anyone could
                 easily mistake her for fantasy in flesh. She however was very

                 much alive and trying her best to put on a show.
                  “So ah, Jaunee …” The interviewer began nervously, sipping a
                 glass of water.
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