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She had on a light pink button-up sweater and light skirt.
Her hair was long, blonde and brown, and she twirled it with the index finger of her left hand as she looked Plant in the eyes and listened to him talk. Several minutes after the two sat down with their coffees, her cell phone rang. This created a dilemma for Plant, as it would any wanton man.
His wide back rested not on the chair but on the cinder block wall of the coffee shop.
She plays the fiddle, favors bluegrass and plays her own version of country.