Loneliness

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Seniorita has been through much, but you can never tell with a Seniorita. She keeps herself reserved and quiet, blood-red lips as silent as her blood-red dress, the snarls of her rich auburn hair subdued in the severest of buns. She keeps her face expressionless, giving no indication of the maelstrom of thoughts and agonies inside of her—except for the occasional tic in her cheek, for a body can only contain so much. Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap as she sits on the bench in the warm summer darkness, waiting for someone or something to happen. Perhaps she is expecting, any moment, something big to happen—something so dramatic and violent—that will release her bottled emotions like a spark of fire on a stick of dynamite. What she hides behind those secretive eyes would then no longer be a mystery.
“Angreek87″