So there she was a small thing so hesitating by the doorway and arching her fingers on the doorframe as if he'd hesitate to crush them and hear bone against bone just to get her out.
She had red hair at just the right length so that it brought out snarling so many associations and things that had become half-memories (or dream sequences which served for him as memories)
And the light outside…
And there was light around her face
So that it wasn't really a matter
Of the hair
But of, perhaps, the smile and the
Girl on a park bench underneath.