Kooky Lucy Frost (18)

   
   "Kooky Lucy Frost (18)"
   
   Lucy prayed the Rosary with Pap; next, with Cleveland loyally @ her heels, she exited the house in sweat gear and hit the Buffalo asphalt within the suburban sprawl of it all, the holy hound never missing a beat of her thunderous Reeboks.
   As she pushed herself around the corner, all was dandy and the Sun tasted delicious upon her skin; then, a handsome, wiry guy with a buzzcut was approaching, walking slowly, with a weird gait, and Lucy felt no threat--just electric energy; at the same time, so did Cleveland--sprinting beyond Lucy's elegant gallop, in direction of the man, up to him and kissing with licks his lowered hands. 
   Lucy took it as a sign.  Sheltie's are intuitive, and she trusted Cleveland's sense of frequency; thus, she faced the man, eye to eye, having no phobias about it.  She noticed he had green eyes, with hints of gold, blue, and a smack of brown in the middle--a window into an intense soul.  She also noticed his chiseled jawline, his dark brow, his thick, full lips, and had a sense of romance.  How freaking weird for her, as if he was not unclean.
   "Hey."  The man said.  "My name is Conor."
   Lucy, without flinching, responded:  "I'm Lucy Frost--nice to meet you, guy."