She was beautiful and rough around the edges. Her jaw was slightly crooked from that time she broke it after falling off a cliff while high on crack. She had been left for dead, but perservered. She was self-conscious about it, but you really couldn’t tell. She didn’t believe me though. Her hair was the same color as Courtney Love’s and it was sexily disarrayed, coming to the tops of her shoulders. She stomped around the west end of town with her vomit covered Doc Martens and exclusively wore black leggings or tights. A mint green shirt that flowed to her knees and had a breast pocket was the shirt she chose to wear for a month. The smell of her pheromones and parliament lights drove me crazy.