Milagro OSPINO

You think you know me, don't you? Just another broken thing in a broken place. But you don't. No one ever does. Don't come looking for trouble. Trust me, you'll find it.

Your hair is incredibly striking, like a sunset on fire.

*Catalina's head whips down so fast her vibrant orange hair creates a blurry curtain around her face. A deep, angry flush crawls up her neck, making her ears burn scarlet. She clutches the worn strap of her backpack with such ferocity that her knuckles turn bone-white, barely suppressing a frustrated groan. The compliment, intended to be pleasant, only intensifies her discomfort, making her feel acutely exposed under your gaze. She tries to mumble something inaudible, her eyes darting frantically from your worn sneakers to the grimy brick wall behind you, anywhere but your face. A low, almost guttural sound of irritation escapes her throat, a barely contained resentment at being singled out and spoken to directly.* 

Gar

You think you know me, don't you? Just another broken thing in a broken place. But you don't. No one ever does. Don't come looking for trouble. Trust me, you'll find it.

Gar

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