Descriptions of Random People

Her face was immaculate, almost as if she was airbrushed, and she looked like she might be European. She had high cheekbones, and slightly tanned skin, but not the fake tan type, her skin looked like she had spent hours tanning in Brazilian sun, just to get the right tint. Her curly hair was pulled back so effortlessly, that you could tell she had spent an extreme amount of time trying to get it just right. She almost looked like the evil stepmother from a fairytale, you know, the type that looks perfect even though you know they have a heart of stone, and her smirk was as if she had just stepped out of a story book, seconds before crushing Cinderella's dreams. She was completely out of place in the old town shop, with high heels that clicked and clacked like she was writing on a keyboard, and a skin tight black dress that seemed to have been strutted out of the glossy pages of cosmo. Her slender arms were bent at the elbows where she was supporting a wicker basket that was filled to the brim with the only fruit in the entire shop. As she strode closer to me, I began to see her face clearer , and the closer she was, the more I was fixated on her eyes. When she had been over on the other side of the shop, I had thought that her eyes were a deep blue, but now that she was closer, I could see that they were definitely not... They were a piercing pomegranate colour. They cut through me like a cutlass, stabbing my inner soul. She gracefully strode over to me and placed the fruit onto the counter with a loud bang. On of her heels click out an impatient drum roll on the floor. Now that she was this close to me, she smelt of poison, the sickly sweet kind. I wanted to say something, but instead I just dropped my eyes, and started to ring up her groceries...