As it were, her story was never one about romance.
On a yellow beach towel spread upon the sand lay a sunburnt girl of 17. She had an easy smile and an ethnicity that was never fully confirmed. Often, but not always, she turned heads when she walked, out of what she could only imagine to be people’s bemusement. The attention made her notably self-conscious. She had full, soft lips like a cloud that had yet to be kissed. Her eyes, dark and shining, could seduce unwittingly, but only with handsome strangers she passed on the streets. Once at age 16, she became entangled in an innocent friendship with a Spanish boy at summer camp. To her stifled dismay, it never amounted to much more. That was the extent of her love life.