She cycles to work. Up the road Indaial, pedaling calmly. Once she arrived thirty minutes late, but every other day, she came just at the hour she was asked.
Juicy has purple hair. If purple were a natural hair color, no one would doubt her hair was given at birth. The purple color appears to grow straight out of the scalp.
When you see her walking you notice her butt. You might think she has a lot of pain in her legs and probably in her back also. Respect quickly grows in your heart for this capable kind woman.
She makes people laugh. She taught me her method of cleaning dirty white rags.
She makes lunch. She puts rice and beans in the microwave; vegetables plop into boiling bubbling water. The vegetables and I are both wet and floppy by lunch time. Juicy sets out the food, the salt, the vinegar, and a pitcher of water turned orange and sweet by a packet of TANG.
I saw her on the street last Saturday with her husband. He is very stick skinny because he eats cigarettes instead of food.
I hardly understand her. I don’t know why. She speaks the same language as everyone else here.
I like her.
