From Blue Nightmares...
He first saw her in the Bowl. He did not remember when exactly, only that his father had just taught him how to shoot many different sorts of guns. So he had to be at least 13 or 15. But it seemed that she had never changed since he spotted her shooting cans from a dirty table approximately seventy feet away. She wore a white t-shirt, an open black leather jacket and men's work boots. Around her neck was a tight band with plastic sunflower pedals glued to it. Her hair was short blond parted gracefully down the middle. Her eyebrows arched with the sound of each shot. Her lips were thick and sensuous; her hands carefully manicured. She handled her weapon with certainty and grace, and kept switching them from one hand to another. With each switch, she turned her body sideways, to the left or to the right, and limply dropped the hand she was not using to her side, completely intent on her task.
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