I remember her hair.

Like trapped flame, she kept the extremely straight, long orange-red strands pulled back into a pony tail. Sometimes, she wore a tight bun, just to be different.

I remember her eyes.

Those laughing green-blue eyes that sparkled over her pert little nose. She lined them in blue with black mascara so they were even more vivid against her pale skin.

Her skin burned easily. In the high desert of California, it was hard for her to avoid the sun. But she was a night child, so really, aside from requirements for work or school, she managed.

I remember her leather pants.

When she wore the black leather, her heavy black Doc Martens and the myriad long-sleeved shirts over tank tops, she should have seemed clunky. She flowed and flickered from step to step.

Her training as a dancer and her natural inclinations just made it impossible for her to be anything other than graceful.

So many years ago. Seventeen – addicted to vampires, music and dance. Wonder where she is today?