She Used To Ride A Motorcycle Day!

She keeps her curly hair long and pinned down over the right side of her head with a barrette. There's a bald spot on that side of her head. That's where her skull got cracked.

She gets headaches. That date she cancelled on you, your second, she had a headache then. Her headaches can make her throw up.

"39 feet," as she tells it. "They measured it. From the guardrail to where I landed, I flew 39 feet and landed smack on my head."

She says that she's lucky that he skull cracked. It was either that or her spine, and there's a better chance you're gonna be able to pull yourself out of a chair if you're skull's cracked. The only thing is, when you get out of the chair you might not remember why you did it, and you'll just end up sitting back down again.

"That don't sound like all that bad a fate," you tell her. Your index finger is sliding around on her bald spot, noting the crests and canyons of skull introducing themselves from just below that smooth patch of flesh.

"Not if you got a comfortable place to sit I suppose." Her hands are clasped up by her cheek. She's thinking about something else.

Happy She Used To Ride A Motorcycle Day!