She’s 5’6″, only a foot from me. Her cheeks are wide and her cheekbones are high, an improbable striking combination.

Her curly blonde hair is held up by a pair of pink and black cheap plastic sunglasses. A black lacy tank/camisole is strained by her C-cup breasts, and hugs her belly tight beneath them.

Her jeans, tight, begin about a centimeter after the cami ends.

Her eyes are pale green, big, and her lips are pursed in serious thoughts as she writes frantically in a little old-school journal.

I wish she’d look up.

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