I'm going to make a dramatic thing about my friend. Okay she doesn't exist. THIS IS A DESCRIPTION. I'm going to time myself and see how long I can write this in.
She walks in the room, and I immediately gesture over to her.
Any boy would swoon over her appearance. She has waist-length chestnut brown hair, which falls in waves and frames her face.
She has fairly tanned olive skin, with a few freckles dotting everywhere.
Her eyes match her hair, shining, like the color of molten chocolate.
Today, she wears an emerald green t-shirt, with some illegible words, as well as blue skinny jeans with two holes at the knees.
Along with that, she dons a pastel blue jacket, made out of satin, and a yellow baseball cap.
She has old Converse, with many scratches.
I beckon towards her, and she sits with me.
Time: 3:56 minutes
YOU ARE READING
gasoline ; rants & spam.
Non-Fiction❝are you insane like me, and in pain like me?❞ highest rank: #95 in non-fiction [rants and spam] {copyright ; © 2017}
