I was sitting at the small table with my favorite book splayed in front of me.
"Hi," She said. "I'm Jess." I looked up.
Her words were the basics in meeting a stranger, yet the situation of the encounter was in no doubt odd. But that was not what had caught my undivided attention.
Her jet black hair was completely wet, as if she had just been swimming. Her clothes, strangely enough, were not. On the other hand, they were stiff and released a horrible, distinct odor. But that wasn't the object of my fascination, either.
What really had me entranced was her bright, pale, white skin. No, not that. It was her scars. All heavily pronounced six of them, running down her arms and one odd scar on her forehead. Her eyes, too, were a strange dark, almost black, brown. They had an electric tint of blue running through them, as if she had live electricity running through her entire body, giving her energy. It was then I realized she was looking at me with a hint of annoyance – she had been talking.
"Sorry," I shook my head. "What?"
She flashed a quick grimace. "I said, what year is it?"