She watched her walk by. Actually she kind of turned by, spinning in circles and looking about herself with a flabbergasted expression. Then she was out of Frida’s field of vision. Frida watched the wind pick up a little and smiled as a few bronze leaves scattered into the road. Frida thrived most when the leaves matched her skin tone.
Another cluster of leaves blurred past the Laundromat’s front window and brought with them the same girl Frida had seen a few seconds ago. She moved and twirled a bit faster this time, pulling her yellow scarf along as she went.
The scarf’s the only graceful thing about her, the poor dear, thought Frida.
One more time, the girl inched into the frame.
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