"I know this chick she lives down on Melrose.
Crissy revealed herself to me first as a mirage. I saw her first as I'd always known her; that slight, black-clad, sullen little girl with her black hair pulled taut in a ponytail, and that blended in to who she was now. She still had the same facial structure and her hair was still midnight black, but she was older now. No Sepultura T-shirt and ripped jeans tonight. Instead, she wore a black blouse, knee high skirt, and fishnet stockings, and her hair was down, loose, and flowing over her shoulders, hiding the Egyptian ankh hovering around her collarbones. It took me a second to see what she'd been reading when I came in, but I frowned nonetheless. I'd never heard of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, and I had only the most basic idea of what an archipelago was, let alone a gulag.