May 11, 2004
She sits there nodding to the rhythmic jostle of the train. Her raven-wing hair sways against her pale cheek, the slight curve of a soft jaw-line that ends in a nearly absent chin. She raises a hand to idly rub her eyes, then her arms cross protectively across her chest, her grey sweater hugging about her tattered black bag and threadbare black shirt. Her dark eyes flutter slightly open from time to time beneath the faintest black slice of eyebrows, then close again. She is uninterested. A muffled yawn breaks her repose, pale lips quickly lost behind her small fist.