She’s out of proportion. She’s short – five feet or so. Her head is tiny, smaller than her breasts (the two together, certainly; maybe each one). Her hair is black, straight, lifeless, shoulder-length. Her face is freckled. Her eyes, limpid green. Her nose, pierced with a silver stud. A flimsy grey t-shirt hangs on her shoulders, draped over, pulled tight by, her C-cup breasts. She’s in her mid-20s.
Black cotton shorts, black tights, black leather boots.
She looks sad.