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She's the kind of woman who eats a lime for lunch.
Who looks you dead in the nose because she can't stand your eyes.
Who always sits with her back to the fire because she likes to watch the shadows dancing on the trees.
Who appears out of nowhere and vanisihes when you turn your back.
Who always carries just a little more firewood than she can handle.
Who puts up Christmas lights in mid-august to celebrate the most boring day of the year.
The kind of woman who can just look at a fire pit and the wood will start burning.
Who always has a pencil in her pocket and an apple in her bag.
Who can type five hundred words per minute on Thursdays but can't manage ten per minute on Tuesday.
The kind who always seems to have a new cat hanging around her yard.
Who sticks a giant log on top of the fire hoping that the bits of burning kindling will make it catch quickly.
Who plants a bunch of strawberries in the grassy space by the side of the metal highway-side barrier.
She's the kind of woman who gets away with murder because she's allowed to brand the full name of her victim on her skin in place of going to jail.
She's the kind of woman who looks you dead in the nose and then vanishes for a year and then turns up on your street pedaling an ice-cream cart.
Who has a fire going in a brazier literally every night of the year and if it's snowing you can bet the first space she clears outside is the patio.
Who always has something roasting over the brazier, only you can never tell what it is because it doesn't taste like anything you've ever eaten.
Who looks up at you over the fire after you ask her how she's doing, and all she does is roll up her sleeve and show you all the new names she's added to her arm.
She's the kind of woman who knows how to blow smoke rings and then blow a smaller smoke ring through the ring.
She's the kind of woman who's always got something in her pipe that isn't tobacco and isn't Weed.
She's the kind of woman who tells stories about Coyote that aren't the least bit funny.
She's the kind of woman who likes to tell tales that have blood in them.

She's the kind of woman who you could swear you've known for your entire waking life.

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