There is pink in her hair.

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She is wearing a tarp over her shoulders, clutched as if someone said hold it like this. She is standing in the rain, where she has been long enough for neon pink to flow in runnels from her hair and over her face and shoulders. Her age is indeterminate, her ethnicity not clear.

She is giggling. From time to time she sobers, and stands, and then the rain reminds her it is there by plinking on her skull or nose, and she giggles again.

Anyone who comes near will get a broad smile.