The sun streamed heavily on her face. “Ugh,” she grunted, throwing her soft, pale hands over her cheeks. She turned her eyes and nose toward the tree that received her silent thanks for being the savior. He stood by her with confusion all over his lightly tanned face. “Why are we avoiding the beautiful sunlight?” His question was met with the look of a woman who knows best. “What if I become dark?” His laughter made the pale face turn into a reddish mass of anger. She took an umbrella out of her bag and left, but not before she asked him this: would you want me if I wasn’t fair?