He was a geezer that made love like a man, but love was never involved.
She was some kind of artist, with a dodgy past, an uncertain future and an extravagant present.
He was a city type that aspired to be a sexual slave.
She had long hair, a bit of piercing here and there, a possible tattoo hidden somewhere.
He was taller than anyone he knew, and got tired of looking down. They called him aloof.
She was feisty and very popular. She had died ginger hair. She took her medication regularly.
He was a simple man that enjoyed complicated women he could not understand, that talked and talked so he could observed them intensely without being interrupted.
She had eczema all over, so she always wore long sleeves and used glasses she didn’t need.
He made decisions quickly. He was impatient. He met deadlines. He liked to run and to be alone.
She liked to draw. She passed drawings instead of notes to her employees. She used emoticons instead of phrases. She thought it was difficult to lie without using verbs. She was to stop lying constantly.