Silently he walked into the room. He looked around. His eyes landed on me. His eyes. They were various muddled shades of brown. They had a sparkle and a fire in them. I was intrigued. His eyes kept moving on. I studied him intensely. His light brown hair looked like it hasn't been combed in days. He smiled, finding the person he wanted to sit with. He had dimples and crooked teeth that twisted this way and that. Slowly, he limped over to his seat. His clothes were tattered. His crimson red shirt was stained. His pants were rags, and his shoes were worn. His blanched big toe stuck out of a rip in his shoe. He joked and laughed with his friend sitting in the neighboring seat. His friend just ignored the shape the boy was in. The boy's skin was colorless. He was not pale because of staying indoors, for you could tell from one look at him that his skin sagged and was dry from being outside; he was wan because of malnourishment. His bones threatened to pierce his translucent skin. He was about 5'9, yet probably only weighed 100 pounds. The boy nodded to his friend, shook his hand, and limped sluggishly out of the room. The moment before he left, he looked back and winked. Those fiery, brown eyes then vanished.
