She said “what?” The way others told you to go “fuck yourself.”

She only wore ‘Wet N’ Wild’ lipstick. An iconoclast. On her off days she’d wear giant ribbons in her hair and peruse the forty-six different colors of lipstick. Natalie didn’t need encouragement to let loose with her caustic wit. A term abroad saw her wander the grey cobbled streets of Ireland. A permanent drizzle cast the sky in a fry pan array of colors. Melodic voices whisked upon the air carried her nights on a whimsy of greater dreams.