It was like a red carpet rolled out, everyone's head turned to stare as she came from around the corner.
I vaguely appreciated the lighting of the building, not enough to call it crummy but enough to say that it certainly got brighter when she walked in. I felt like a bolt of lightening had struck me, my veins pulsing blood in my ears, my heart beating with every sounding step of her thick Doc Martens upon the dirty tiles.
There she was, in all the glory of everyone's pierced glares.
Ripped denim covered fishnet leggings with a plain black t-shirt tucked in. She had black gauges and writing all over her right arm, her makeup fiercer than any look the students in this high school could give her.
I can really only say that she was captivating.
But why was everyone staring at her like that?
Like she was some kind of scum of the earth, a horrid sight rather than this enigma who held herself high. She brushed past me without even looking, long strides, her eyes set straight.
I desperately wanted to chase up to her and study every inch of her mind. What goes through your head when you try to fall asleep? Does it bother you that people stare like that? Do you think hot-dogs are considered sandwiches? How did you get your buns to look so nicely shaped?
She was such a pretty face on a pretty neck.
