Descriptive Essay: The Red Girl

Then I grabbed my mostly empty can of Redbull, downed the last few gulps and hopped back out of the car which sat patiently waiting for a new tire. “Y’all ready?” asked the woman. She’d pulled her pickup in front of me now. Her huge head hung out the window, her neck fat dangling precariously over the door. I nodded and made my way to the passenger side. The truck itself should’ve been a warning sign. It smelled of stale bird feed. The dashboard had a thin layer of dust that puffed up with every gust of air that hit it. A stereotypical pair of pink fuzzy dice hung from the rearview mirror. The woman practically spilled off the driver’s seat. “Lucky for you, the house ain’t too much farther from here,” she said. Her wide foot pressed