Something about her

Her voice is sharp. Not quite what could be defined as shrill, but more like what could potentially be defined as a squeeky-toned voice. Although, as far as my not-too-literate self is aware, there doesn’t exist a category amongst the various descriptions reserved to illustrate a person’s voice that is entitled ‘sqeeky-toned’. But that is precisely how I would describe her voice – in addition to several other adjectives, such as gratingly sweet. Almost too sweet, in fact; unbearably sweet. There, that’s it! Scrap out of your memory all that I’ve just written (or don’t, if you wish to have a more thorough description of the voice of my as of yet, nameless, faceless protagonist (or antagonist)). It’s simply too sweet to be true. Makes you wonder whether a person can have lived for that long (to tell you the truth, I actually don’t know old she is, but I suspect she’s either in her extremely late-teens or early to not quite mid-, but close to mid-20s) without experiencing some sort of bitterness or sorrow that would gnaw away at it. Her voice has no maturity, no wisdom in it.

But why do I focus on her voice, you ask? Because it’s the first thing I noticed about her. Well, the first thing that I noticed the first time that I was close enough to overhear her. And it was definitely the first thing that struck me (in a struck me head-on kind of a way) when she first spoke to me. Although, I must mention, she has only spoken to me on one prior occasion (my recollection here may be a bit faulty since I’m tempted to say that its been twice that she’s spoken to me, but I’m afraid I have no recollection of the where, when and what of the supposed second instance) and I suspect I replied with a look of disinterested amusement on my face, without the care to mask the mockery in my voice. May even have had a tinge of arrogance in it, but I don’t particularly have a pressing desire to spend too much time flushing out that thought.

I’m sitting next to a guy that I know wants to strike up a conversation with me, but I’m trying desperately hard to show how engrossed I am in my writing so that it may enable him to realize that any attempt on his part to engage my attention will be futile. I’m sure he’s nice, very nice even. And I’m well aware that I’m likely turning out to be the antagonist here with my head-held-high and nose-up-in-the-air snooty criticisms, but there’s just something about him that makes me want to get as far away from him as I possibly can in the least amount of time. I’m formulating a game plan as I’m writing this.

Her, too. There’s just something about her. Can’t quite put my finger on it, but the voice gives it away.