She catches your eye because of the dress - it's almost the exact shade of reddish-orange your wife was wearing last night, but shorter, and this woman has thrown a cream cardigan spotted with matching red flowers across her shoulders. Her legs are tan and her hair is blonde, but not naturally blonde, to judge by the dark roots at the crown of her head and the dry, thatched straw of the ends.
You walk past, hoping to catch a glimpse of her face, curious to see the face of a person with hair like that in a dress your wife might wear, but just as you come up beside her, she turns away to look down the track for an approaching train.
Just when you think you'll see her face, she's always turning away.
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