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She walked with a mechanical precision, every step on the off-beat carefully measured at a different length each time. When she raised her head, her eyes would dart across people’s expressions, taking in everything, searching. Most of the time her head hung low, her eyes focused on the ground with a broken spirit.
She wore a beanie, a tight faded blue-grey that gave the impression its wool was filled with dust. Her thick brown hair flowed from beneath it, falling just past her shoulders and contrasting well with the knitwear covering most of it. The same red jacket covered her slim frame as it always did. A Bonds jacket, most likely, with a faded purple round-necked shirt showing up from under the neckline, yet a light grey protruded from the bottom and sleeves of the jacket. This suggested that she was wearing the layering she had adapted for the towns snowy weather. A long-sleeve grey with a purple short-sleeve over the top was what she seemed to be wearing today, in a style almost like a signature to her.
She wore a pair of black jeans with a slight bootleg flare. They were long and almost fully covered her small, black pair of the famous basketball shoes, the white stitching still fairly clean and intact.

She moved her hand to adjust the earphones falling from beneath her hair and into her pocket. The doors closed behind her.

Cause love's such an old fashioned word
And love dares you to care
For the people on the edge of the night
And love dares you to change our ways
Of caring about ourselves