Jolene took in the space around her; her pupils grew large then small again, and the blues of her eyes caught the lights above. It was obvious how much she stood out against the browns of the walls, against the posters that were slapped on with tape, how she was a cutout over the paintings where most of us were camouflaged against each brushstroke. By the way she held herself it was clear that Jolene wasn’t used to being a minority.
