PEOPLE ISH: HER HAIR
ORANGE HAIR I could start with her ready smile or no, maybe her smell; that fruity smell that I am sure she discovered and couldn't let go off for what? I'm assuming five, six years now; she seemed so poised, like someone might want to hurt her and she was staying ready for it. It was this poise that made me walk up to her the first time, a nudge nudging, "She just might be woke, " pulled me. Turned out she was. I greeted her back, the normal, half-swaggering, half-casual "How far?" Which she did an about-face to, her face older than what I thought I saw from afar. My greeting was inappropriate. I began to fidget, she mercifully flashed a smile, I smiled back. "How are you?" She asked, "I'm fine, I'm Miracle," I remember saying. You're watching the game? Why were you smiling like that? How come you don't wear earrings?...all these questions, I itched to ask this free spirit. Sh