Incomplete Story

There was something catching about the way her hair spilled over the grass. The careless tangles, split ends, the occasional brilliant curl contrasted with stick straight locks of brown, all summing up a careless beauty vacant in her awkward features. He noticed she wasn’t beautiful; her lips were to thin, her elbows to dry, hazel eyes bright but not charming. And yet, her hair was to beautiful for her to be ugly. The brunette sat up, covered in grass. “What is it about a cemetery that makes you feel so alive?” inquired she, dancing nimble fingers along a sepulcher while passing it. The boy watched her. He knew she had said that to sound poetic, and said so. Indignant she cried, “nothing of the sort” and ran along, red dress floating with her, feeling quixotic and beautiful, as if she were Holly Golightly, yet the boy saw no resemblance.