Notes

She sat at the window of the subway car, her back pressed against the plastic seat, legs coiled tightly againt each other like a spring. The glass window pane behind her shuddered with the rhythm of the moving train, the last defense against the void of darkness that filled the labrynth of rails tucked beneath New York City. Her figure, hidden beneath a heavy black overcoat that made her seem heavier than she really was, had deep curves and tones, as if sculpted from marble, and her otherwise short stature was forgotten when propped up by a pair of sleek grey heels. She was in possession of a certain quiet dignity that was uncommonly beheld in such a grimy subway, but while captivating it was nonetheless unsettling, and it kept even the most obnoxious of trainriders at bay. Underneath her trencoat she wore a light grey pantsuit that had been tailored, and was the only one of its kind that she could afford. A thin curtain of dusty blonde hair framed her rounded face, sweeping at her broad shoulders, and full pink lips pressed themselves into a single thin line. Her posture was proud and confident, feminine but no less imposing, and her long fingers kept running over the lining of a worn leather briefcase, as if she were trying to seal back into place whatever was trapped inside.