Prompt was to pick up a magazine and write about the first image you flipped to. I grabbed glamour and first picture was a hair ad...

Her blonde hair was the brightest thing about her. It swirled in the wind and cascaded down and across her bronzed shoulders. They were her darkest feature, always kissing the sun.

She lifted her cigarette to her red lips and took a drag. The flare reflected in her sunglasses despite the afternoon hour and despite the glare from the green pool on the other side of the fence. Smoke escaped her rouged lips and flirted through her hair.

She frowned and tugged on the fraying hem of her Daisy Dukes. The denim was as worn as she was, but the stress wasn't as well masked as she kept hers. Though her nerves did betray themselves in her shifting back and forth on her feet - an action that could have just as easily been from the discomfort of her platform sandals. They were old, faded in '70s tones, and clashed badly with her cut-up tank top. The top caught in the breeze, too, taunting her belly with bare air.

She pulled the tank back down with fingers topped by chipped nail polish, then raised them again to her lips for another uneasy drag on the cigarette.

Watches weren't something she believed in, but she still knew he was late. Two cigarettes late.

The strap of her fringed purse slipped on her shoulder and she righted in with a huff before sucking the last life from the cigarette and stamping it out.

She tried not to think about the gift for him that sat foolishly in that purse. It was beginning to feel heavy and taunting.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the fence.

Her blonde hair wove in and out of her sunglasses, dancing on the breeze. She ignored it, though it tickled her nose. The leaves of the nearby sapling also waved in the wind and it was impossible not to notice their shadows slowly lengthening.

The back door of the building across the street opened and the tinny sound of top-40 music on an old system poured out of the darkness.

A man stuck his head out and yelled for her that it was time for work. She scowled and waved him back inside, watching the neon lights disappear off the sidewalk as the door shut.

Still, she couldn't go in yet. She glanced anxiously up the quiet street.

No one was there and no one was coming. She'd been deserted, just like the rest of the neighborhood.

With a sigh, she stifled her disappointment and reached into her bag for her lipstick. She reapplied the red and squared her shoulders as she rubbed her lips together.

Determined not to look one last time for any sign of him, she crossed the street and headed inside to face the dozens of men who did want her.