Two long and thin legs,
wrapped tight in see-through fabric.
Her walk was destructing and suspicious,
never looked you in the eye.
Her hair was a faded version of the red it used to be,
and her eyes rested deeper
and cold.
She always wore one hand in her pocket,
firmly holding a key.
Just in case, she said.
Those things happen.
Not one person in town had never seen her
with a plastic bag
or a cigarette.
Not a single person hadn't seen her walk.
Only never towards home.