KITTY
Combs and scissors seem to be afraid like fire .
Looking down at her from his good six feet, he flicks his lighter and brings the flame closer. Keith stares into his long black eyes with thick lashes for a few seconds, then dips the tip of his cigarette into the orange flame. He doesn't look away. In the light of a street lamp, the guy seems swarthy like a Greek. Plump lips, neat round nose. The slit of the eyes, the outline of the cheekbones, the golden hue of the skin ... Keith is willing to bet that at least half of his blood is soaked in the sun of the tropics. Polynesia? May be.
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