She
It’s after midnight and she drives down the street. Her top is down and the wind flies through her blond hair. She plays music. The good kind. She has extraordinary taste. Her left hand is on the steering wheel and her right hand is on the shifter. She has a lip ring. Every once in a while she will pull her hair back, bite on her piercing and give you a stare. Her two eyes hold you at bay. Time stops. No one can resist. She has a mellow feel, almost mysterious. You are drawn into her slowly trying to figure it out. She.