DREADED LOCKS Cheryl stepped on the gas and whisked us off Calorian Avenue in a flash, before we got caught up with the traffic that was building right on Elgin Street. One minute less, and we would be neck deep in a traffic jam that could go on for hours. Trombone watched her closely as she breathed hard and fast, her nose flaring furiously and jaws clenched tightly. Her fingers turning white as she gripped the steering firmly. Trombone knew that look. It was one she or anyone who knew Cheryl well, would not wanna mess with. With this mood, Cheryl was a beast. This is not your comic book beast, but a real life beast who can destroy anything in her path in the twinkle of an eye. Imagine a quiet chocolate skinned nerd with dreadlocks, who works on her computer all day, drinking only black coffee; who stays up all night watching The Walking Dead and How To Get Away With Murder... There you have it, that's who Cheryl is. "Why did you do it?" Trombone asked. ...
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