Caitlin smiled lightly, her lips a pale pink in the light. Her glasses sat on the bridge of her angled nose, a sweet, seemingly searching look always in her dark eyes. She brushed back her hair that swooped over her forehead and waved down the sides of her neck. Her friend was talking about something and she nodded along as she listened. When she replied, her voice was bold and strong, which could be surprising from the first look at her gentle face. But the more you listened, the more it became her, and the more strength you saw set into her brow and deep in her eyes. She was tired, that you could also tell, but it was a hard-fought weariness. Her bold tone translated into a never-ending determination that could be sensed if you only listened closely enough. Her words were clipped and pronounced, landing each without hesitation, only an occasional held pause of thought. Her movements were like her words; each with a purpose and intention. Yet, for so much of this same pattern, there was an inner gentleness that you could feel from her as well. She smiled, and it lit up her face, her eyes brightening from their calm stare. She moved with her smile, straightening and replying with enthusiasm and laughing along with her companion. You couldn’t help but be engaged in any conversation with her, sharing opinions and ideas and receiving her reactions in return. She had a way of getting your attention and holding it without any effort on her part.