She
The silence was oppressive. So was the expanse. If she unfocused long enough the prosaic, unremarkable yellows and browns of dry brush and fallow fields weaved themselves into something almost beautiful. The only thing this magnitude of desolation serviced was her insignificance. She really wanted a cigarette.
He
There she was again. She always seemed on the periphery of his thoughts and just before he could think her away, there she was. Walking into the framed landscape beyond his classroom window. Framed by freedom, she wandered. He wanted to know where her mind went.
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