In Shadows

Ah, yes. Coffee People again. I get a lot of amusement there.

Her stance is one of wariness. Shoulders hunched, she carries the weight of more than the laden backpack. Eyes glance left and right, searching for danger, though her head remains down to indicate intimidation.

Her hair is short, spiky, bright red. She wears a riotous collage of color and pattern - a lycra top that does nothing to hide her thick body, an indecently short skirt that looks more at home on an ice skating rink. Vivid pink fishnet stockings, artfully ripped, do little to cover meaty thighs. Her feet are crammed into patent leather sandals.

Everything about her essence screams 'Don't look at me!'

Everything about her appearance screams 'Pay attention!'

What a mass of confliction. She wants to be noticed, but expects to be attacked. Is it conscious attention seeking? Does she desire to be hounded for her choice of appearance? Is abuse her aim? Will she feel vindicated if someone gives her crap for the whole gothic / punk get up? Or does she slink back to wherever she feels safe to nurse her wounds, to hug a tattered teddy bear to her ample chest, to weep over the unfairness of it all?

Or maybe a confrontation gives her strength, and she straightens her bowed stance, eyes flashing as she demands to be treated like a Human Being. I'll never know. She's lost to my view, walking the streets from here to there, waiting for the attack to come.

Just started chapter seven today. I should finish it this afternoon. The outline is out the window, and I'm writing by the seat of my pants at the moment. Interesting that I can toss together a romance in this manner, but nothing else. Go figure.

Tonight we go to the Cinco de Mayo celebration at Waterfront Park. I know. It's not the fifth of May anymore. But the party is going until the weekend. I'm back to work tomorrow; gotta enjoy it while I can.