Magdalena, called Maggie
She looked familiar, although one could not place her at once, if one could place her at all. The eyes seemed to melt into her fair, freckled face. Those eyes were deep oceans of blue. They seemed to swirl, almost--they were alive, yet shy. The strawberry hair, curled in loose rolls, fell unplanned, but not hapahazardly, on her face, and halfway down her back. Most of the rolls were tied back with a glimmering green ribbon, but a few still laid loose on her face. The pillowy, puffy sleeves of her shirt looked like the whitecaps of the waves of copal material that made up her long flowing skirt. Her thin lips, slightly parted, as if to speak but then decided against it, also gave the illusion of shyness. The few who knew her knew of the strength that was in those eyes and those lips--her shyness was simply a cover of a stronger being.
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