Describing People
The aim of this exercise is to practice describing people that I've met or seen.
Girl that walked by me at work
Middle age, lost
Straight, shoulder length brown hair cut in a A-Frame
Large black rimmed glasses
Green blouse
Black shrug or cardamom
Over-sized purse
Jeans
Athletic shoes
Holding purse to side like a shield, walking hesitantly towards the exit.
Manager at store
At one point I think she might have led a carefree life. The lines on her face seem to have accumulated suddenly, like they unexpectedly appeared some day and they made her appear concerned and distracted. Her dark brown hair is usually pulled back into a half pony tail, there are stray grey hairs peppered throughout. Her hair only reaches the top of her shoulders giving her a no-nonsense look. She usually is holding a clip-board and is often in concentrated discussion with her employees. Everyone is looking for her help, milling around until she finishes with one problem in order to deal with the next. She looks tired.
Slightly disabled clerk
He has efficiently tied his apron around his waist and moves with a brusque purposeful intent. His hair is cropped short, graying at the temples. Looking at him you might be tempted towards pity since it is clear from his face that he is a bit dim, yet he seems to complete the tasks given him with efficiency and little complaint.
Ex-Pat Texan Lady
Short and over weight but well dressed, long dark hair. She's usually wearing jeans and a nice shirt, friendly but not overly. She has a son who brings her fine coffee, she likes to brew it in a French press rather than drink the ordinary brew available in the machine. She works long hours and lives with her son. Just went back to school because it's better than spending all of her time watching Netflix.
Old Gentleman
Fluffy white hair flattened by an invisible hat, bald on top, teeth look fake or badly capped. Button up shirt, loose, tattered at the bottom. Loose, shabby slacks, walking away from the thrift store.
Corrections Officer
I had settled into the elevator, I had pushed the first floor by mistake, I really needed to go to the second floor so when I reached the first I started pressing the close button. Suddenly a thin tattooed arm was shoved into the closing gap followed by a thin stern looking corrections officer who held the door open for a bedrageled young woman wearing a cast on her arm and presumably her boyfriend who wore an oversized Adidas sweatshirt. The corrections officer stood between the two, and I reflected how elevator's can become awkward but at the moment I was too tired to care about awkwardness. I covertly eyed them and saw that the corrections officer was wearing these anachronistic sunglasses, with meshed webbing on the side. She also had tats on her arms, something I hadn't noticed before. She appeared stern, but she definitely had flare.
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