[I am setting myself a challenge this week. I will blog daily for seven days, and each post will consist of exactly one hundred words. Not one word more or less. One hundred words to convey my day.]
Jamie cuts my hair, but he left. So, Georgia. I worried, but one look, and I knew I was safe. Petite, pale, straight black hair very short in the back, and then two razor-sharp triangles of hair hanging down each side of her face. A tiny silver stud nestled into the indentation above her upper lip. A cream knitted sweater with knitted cherries attached. Skinny jeans, red ballet slippers tied at each ankle with a bow. On the top of each foot, a blue diamond and red bow, tattooed. She says she bought the shoes before she got the tattoos.