She stands taller than the average woman. Wearing a modest black dress with a V-neck line, it hits at her knees, the sleeves at her elbows. It’s her favorite dress, hanging perfectly on her lanky, wiry frame. It reveals nothing. Modest. Simple black flats on her feet, and near-to-nothing natural make-up, she doesn’t appear ostentatious. Classy.
Dark brown hair sweeps past her shoulders. When the afternoon sunlight flashes against her gray-blue eyes, they sparkle, like moons reflected in a shattered mirror, full of knowing and broken promises and keeping secrets. She is a wise sage, years beyond the youthfulness of her lifetime. Exaggerating her age, barely etched fine lines frame the pair of galaxies.