I look around the loud hallway, searching for someone to study, as i often do when all other entertainment has escaped me. If I had to pick my favorite hobby, it would be studying, watching people and trying to figure out their story. My eyes sweep the space around me, everyone is either eating their lunch or intent on a conversation, until eventually they rest on a pair of hazel eyes. My first impression of the girl is that she was absolutely ordinairy, and that she is staring at me. So I wait, but she never looks away, she barely even blinks. Oh. She's not staring at me at all, she looking at the wall behind me. This is very odd, the people she's sitting with are all very loud, and my other brief encounters with her tell me that she is too. But here she sits, staring intently at a wall. So I look closer, study her more than I usually do. I notice that there is nothing ordinairy about this girl's features at all. Her skin, a pale cream with a caramel undertone, doesn't match her high, Native American, cheek bone. Her lips are the fullest full I have ever seen on anyone with pale skin and no botox, but are not very wide, making them into a permanent pout. Her eyes are hazel, but just barely, for the only brown in them is an infidecimal amount around the pupil. She is lovely. I wonder why no one else stares at her as I do now. And then I understand, huh, they haven't noticed these things. How strange, that no one would notice her lovely face or extremly high collar bones or her amzingly full breasts, or her soft, billowing chocolate curls except for me. I wonder what that means?