She wore straight cut blue jeans frayed a little at the bottom with a black fitted t-shirt advertising a recording studio based in Philadelphia and New York. Black converse sneakers complemented the black plastic bracelets covering her right arm. A pink watch, a black wristband with small metal pyramids, and a few alphabet bead bracelets adorned the other arm, but did not take attention away from the band aid on her forearm, just below the curve of her elbow.
Maybe you didn’t see her. She was silent, pondering something that, by the look on her face, was beyond our understanding. Her eyes, the calm, grayish blue of the ocean before a heavy storm, when the current is strong enough to drown a ship made of steel, glittered excitedly behind long lashes. Her hair barely passed her ears, except for two long pieces in front which fell on her cheeks, brushing her mouth. She made no motion to move them, but continued to stare. One patch of her straight cut bangs, dyed a bright pink, seemed to laugh as she turned her head and focused her quiet eyes on another target.
Did I, alone, know she was there? Ring-clad fingers clutched a pencil to her mauve, glossy lips, but still she did not touch her hair. A three leaf clover rested on her collar, clinging lightly to a necklace made up of small metal beads. Her eyes flashed when she looked in my direction, but were still calm; she hadn’t noticed I was watching her. Maybe, like you not seeing her, she didn’t see me.
It’s hard to remember everyone.