Her face shines out through the shadows, pale, and white, dark hair spilling out from under her hood. The moonlight hits her strangely, she’s such an odd sight in this normal street, with it’s normal buildings. Her in her red coat with her black hair, she looks just like a fairy tale. But fairy tales aren’t real, are they?
She walks down the quiet street, stopping as a car passes her, the yellow of it starkly contrasting the redness of her coat. Her eyes shine in the headlights, shockingly blue and scared, she reminds me of a Deer, unmoving, waiting for danger to pass, close to running. But I don’t think she will.
I wonder what she’s scared of, there’s plenty. It’s New York, midnight, I can hear men singing a couple of streets away, obviously drunk. There are neon lights shining over the buildings, lighting up what the moon hasn’t already in an eery light, the greens and yellows of the night clubs making the place look like a horror film.
I suddenly realise she’s turned the corner, and run to catch up. I can hear her heels splashing through puddles. I step in one too, accidentally, she hears me and spins around, her hood falling down as her hair fans out behind her, reflecting moonlight, hiding her face.
She catches my eye, she must have taken in how small I am, how little of a threat I am, because she smiles. Her teeth look so white, whiter than I’d expected against her pale skin. But nothing about her is how I expected.
She’s turned, and is walking backwards towards the door. Blue eyes holding mine, all I can do is try not to stand in the puddles, although I already feel rain soaking through my clothes. Lights shine through the windows, the glass lighting the street up green. She backs through the door, and I follow.