Of course, I saw Pihu in the distance, never making contact with her. She stood tall, graceful, stunning with her long, onyx-colored hair, deep brown eyes, and beautiful cheekbones. I don’t think I would have been able to tell the difference between her and Angelina Jolie placed side by side, except for their eye color. Each were elegant in the same way, beyond descriptive words in Vogueand Elle. Pihu ignored me all afternoon, keeping one hundred or more feet away from me at all times, perhaps unable to speak with me because of her hate and loathing. Not once did we shake hands or share a well-executed, but quite bogus, hug. It felt as if an invisible but apparent line had been drawn between us that neither one of us crossed for fear of a tragedy happening almost instantaneously.
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