She walked down the street.
No, walking isn't the best term. She exuded an aura of inner strength,
"toughness", I guess I can call it. A get-out-of-my-way-'cause-I-mean-business
sort of attitude, but she never spoke a word. The way she walked: almost
like a guy - not a swagger, but she didn't sway her hips and wiggle her
butt like many other females I'd seen.
I studied her more carefully then.
There was a slight hesitation in her step, like she was unsure of where
she was going, where to place her feet next. Her blue eyes were downcast
most of the time, yet she held her head and chin up high. She was proud
of what she was. And definitely, she was not going to yield to anyone's
distorted perceptions of what she should be.
Her yellow and blue jacket covered
a sporty, colorful shirt. No jewellry was visible except for the 2 sets
of studs in her ears and a Timex. At 5'4", she wasn't tall but her baggy
jeans gave the impression of (slightly?) longer legs, much to her delight.
She reached to smooth some reddish-brown
hair into her bun and I wondered: is this really me?