walked into the library, my usual place of refuge, and immediately noticed her

again. The girlwith the ugly tattoo. It was a strange, abstract design that covered
her entire arm, and it seemedto be the only thing that I could focus on whenever I
saw her.I couldn't help but wonder, was she following me? I had first seen her a few
days ago in thesame library, and now here she was again. I couldn't shake the
feeling that she was somehowtracking me down. I tried to focus on my work, but her
presence was like a weight on my mind,pulling my attention away from my studies.As
I watched her from the corner of my eye, I couldn't help but notice that she seemed
different.She seemed more confident, more self-assured. It was as if she was
comfortable in her ownskin and didn't care what others thought of her. I couldn't
help but be envious of her. Here I was,worried about what others might think of me
and my own insecurities, and she was completelyat ease with herself.I realized then
that my own thoughts about her tattoo were a reflection of my own prejudicesand
narrow-mindedness. I had no right to judge her for something as superficial as a
tattoo, andI felt ashamed for even thinking that she was following me. It was
possible that she was simplya frequent library goer, just like me.As the day went
on and I continued to see her around the library, I began to appreciate her
tattoomore and more. It was bold, it was unique, and it was a reflection of who she
was. I realized thatI could learn a lot from her, and that it's important to always
look beyond surface appearancesand see people for who they truly are.The girl with
the ugly tattoo had taught me a valuable lesson, and I couldn't help but be
gratefulfor the encounter. As I left the library that day, I couldn't help but
think that I would be seeing heragain, and I was looking forward to it.
ant dthast how it ended