Her eyes are the same colour as smog. A gross green-grey colour that you’d also associate with sickness. I never really pay attention to her hair, but I think it’s up most of the time since her eyes are so easy to see. But that’s mostly because she stares. A lot. She’ll stare at whoever she’s talking to, and even when she’s not, she seems to only function when she holds eye contact with someone. Her hair is red. Not a pretty ‘rose ginger’ but a colour you could easily mistake as a dirty blonde or a light brown.

You can tell her smile is fake, because she’s never not smiling. No one who always has a smile, can mean it 24/7. And there’s something about the look in her eyes when she smiles.

You can tell when she lies because she’ll quickly glance down and then back up, it’s the only time she’ll ever break eye contact. She doesn’t lie a lot, usually she just avoids saying anything in some roundabout way.

Once, she started to braid my hair so I’d stop asking about how her grade in history went up so quickly.

She especially avoids talking about me. Her worst shame. Sometimes there’ll be someone that comes up and asks about our friendship. I insist we were never friends. I despise her with every fibre of my being. But sometimes they’ll ask the right question at the right time, and I reveal that maybe some part of me wants her back.