Ice cream, perhaps, isn't the best choice in snack foods when temperatures are creeping towards the freezing side. Try telling that, however, to Kendra Jones. The things is, she doesn't really care that the inside of her mouth is currently undergoing a sort of torture. Nor does she care that her thin gloves aren't really doing their job. The paradox of a thick scarf and ice cream that is not melting on her way back from class is really one she has no desire to examine. It's tasty.

Kendra has an affinity for things that do not find their way into what is considered "normal." The kinship didn't often make itself known, but did occasionally manifest in some of her mannerisms. Her willful ignorance of local climate conditions and their regards to seasonal snacks being the most recent illustration.

The hair gathered at the back of Kendra's neck threatened to break out of its elastic toggle, it was that big today. She had difficulties restraining it, but damnit, it was windy and she didn't like not being able to see on account of hair. When she walked, it bounced lightly on the top of the scarf that was wrapped around her neck. The scarf, which almost obscured the bottom half of her face, was constantly in danger of being dribbled on by the Chocolate Swirl that she was licking out of the cone in her hand. Kendra's boots clonked when she walked, a sound she was growing to like that was accompanied by the scrape of her jeans against the paved sidewalk.

It wasn't long into her trek across campus that Kendra slowed to a leisurely stroll. She spotted a bench. She walked over to it. She sat down. The strap that rested on the girl's shoulder slid off when its attached bag rested on the seat next to her.

With an extra lick to the cone she held, Kendra opened up her sack and pulled out a textbook. Chapter Four--Anatomy of the Brain.