"Here we are!" exclaimed a women who appeared to be in her thirties. She exited the car and stood in front of her newly bought apartment. Slowly stepping out of the same car stood a 14-year old girl. She had cinnamon-colored skin that complimented the freckles that adorned her cheeks. Her curly, black hair streaked with lavender locks. She was also wearing her favorite/signature outfit. A short-sleeved dark purple T-shirt with a owl drawn in gold, a soft, light lavender sweater that wrapped around her perfectly, ripped jeans with black stockings underneath, and navy blue UGGs. She stepped onto the sidewalk with a bored expression. You could tell that she was clearly not impressed.

"Mom, why did we have to move again?" the girl whined, already heading to the trunk to grab her bags. With an expression that meant she just wanted to get this over with. She didn't even leave time for her mother to respond. She just grabbed two suitcases, one backpack, and something that resembled crutches.

"Patience, Angela" the woman warned.

"What?"Angela yelled already inside the house.

"Ugh, nevermind!" Her mother cryed back.

'Why am I so ticked off about this? I don't even care...' Angela thought as she put away the last of her stuff. Or, how my mom calls it junk! She hastily plopped on top of her bed. With a deep sigh, she grabbed a sketchbook and a mechanical pencil. Angela wouldn't admit it, but she was a excellent artist. She isn't the modest type either. She sketched out something that looked like a wisp. Suddenly, a huge headache hit her and she dropped her pencil. Angela spaced out for a while after the headache passed. The sound of horns honking sent her back to reality. Angela got up and looked out the window.

Traffic jam, typical for New York City.

I rewrote for who knows why.

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