She was so cool-looking. She sat across the restaurant from my friend and me at the outdoor taco place in Mexico City. We were getting Saturday early afternoon brunch and baking in the heat under the awning. She was eating with a friend. She had her underarm hair, subtle but grown like mine, on full display. She had this beautiful, large, curly brown mullet. Not short, frizzy curls, but messy, tangled, long ones. She was wearing a white wife-beater tank top. An obvious dyke. Yet I found her mesmerizing.
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