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butterflies

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He doesn't have a clue about when it started, but lately, Phillip has been feeling really weird.

For the past few weeks, nearly every single minute of every single day, he's felt it. A sensation like horrible tiny creatures fluttering around in his stomach, bashing against his shell, trying to escape. Sometimes the feeling is so strong, it seems as though the awful things might actually be able to burst outside of him.

The worst part, though, is that Phillip likes it. A lot.

The wriggling of these creatures inside him somehow feels pleasant, occasionally making the boy feel downright giddy.

But here's the oddest thing: these strange beings only exist whenever D.D. is around, or when Phillip is thinking about her, which is to say, the creatures' presence is a near constant.

The strange critters apparently must also have some sort of connection to other areas of Phillip's body, since he can feel his shell get hot and his pulse pick up at the same time the little things act up.

Phillip has noticed that the tiny monsters are especially active when he's doing things that he never used to, like admiring the sharpness of his friend's green eyes, or getting lost the magnetically electric blue shade of her hair, or appreciating the shine of her smile.

Yes, it's a mystery this egg just hasn't been able to crack.

Until now.

Now he's staring wide-eyed horror, a flush across his shell as he looks at the book in his hand.

"Butterflies in the stomach..."

"...a nervous response..."

"...romantic attraction..."

Phillip gulps, closing the book and putting it down with a shaky hand.

So.

Case closed.

 

 

...but why did it have to be butterflies?