Remembering Her Name

I met her on the train. Pale, really pale. That's the first thing I noticed. The next thing was her lips. They were painted bright red with lipstick, and looked stunning against the almost-white of her face. She told me her name, but I don't remember. I'm not known for my memory. So for now I'll call her Snow White.
Who knows? Maybe she's waiting for a prince to kiss her...