She

She is about ninety to a hundred pounds About four feet tall Short hair Normally walks fast She Has that face Her face is like a combination of anger, confusion and deep thoughts She never smiles Always serious Am always afraid to say anything to her Am afraid of the response This is her face every morning I don't understand how she can come to work like that everyday I feel like it's either she hates this job so much Or her coworkers Am afraid to ask her: how was your night? I want to crack that shell I've tried smilling, it never works I intentionally stay away from her, I feel like friendliness agitates her Am sure inside that shell, there's a tear, a flower and a warm blanket.