She is advanced in her years with skin like old parchment paper. She wears makeup to cover-up the wrinkles that show translucent, no matter how hard she tries. Always wearing a ring on a finger or a shimmering necklace because of her love for jewelry. She lives alone, never to interact with anyone. People look at her with contempt and scorn when she is walking down the street, but she is not those things at all. Friends who have known her personally over the years, have seen love, wisdom and generosity, but with the sorrow and pain she went through, those expressions have faded on her face. To relax herself and clear her mind of the past she smokes, as a get away from the pain. Lights a cigarette and watches the smoke dance and swirl into a foggy cloud of white. It reminds her of the days when she was free and alive. She would frolic in a meadow laughing with her siblings, singing with her friends and spent time with her family. She longs for those gleeful moments, yet knowing they wont come back.
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