Angela McBriant was sitting in the gravel on the side of the road. Her hands were lazily drawing shapes in the dirt. She had tan skin, thick, bushy, black hair, and a very vibrant yellow dress on. The dress had an equally as vibrant green stripe around the middle, with a big bow on her left side. Her dress was now dirty from crouching in the messy gravel. Angela felt fine and dandy sitting there, though it was a little too hot for her taste. Right now her bushy hair was pulled back into two thick braids that ended in two big puffs and sweat was beginning to collect at her hairline.
The evening glow lit up the dining room table. It was warm in the house, and a soft tapping sound could be heard. A younger man in his late 20s sat at the table. He had short, red-tinged hair, and freckles speckled across his face. His deep, brown eyes were looking off in thought. There was a stack of papers with writing scrawled all over them. The handwriting was messy.