She is young, 21, smokes Parliament Lights, and inhales deep with every drag before blowing out, visibly young — her pale skin soft, real, not manipulated. Her features are unmarked. No makeup that you can identify. No tattoos. Holes from ear piercings, but they're unfilled. She beams with energy at every exchange and inquest, with every word. You wonder. You ask question upon question. You want to know more. And she tells you. Without hesitation. Everything on her mind. Forcefully. Streaming. Louder than you expect. More dynamic. Inflected. Strong. Kinetic.
Forcing the smoke from her lungs, from the right side of her mouth toward the sky and past her naturally brown, healthy head of hair. Her eyes are green, maybe closer to hazel. Her face is soft and expressive and constantly ready to break into a smile or a simper or a wince. It strikes you how youthful she appears. Visibly