Jamila
Once adequately clean, I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a white, fluffy towel. I take a long look at myself in the mirror. My mom always says how much I look like her, but I don't see it.
I'm slender, yet I have some curves. My mom has an hourglass figure to die for. I have long curly hair that almost reaches my waist, while hers is coily. My eyes are brilliant silver, glinting another color if you look closely, while hers are chocolate brown.
"I just don't see it, never have," I exhale.
I wear black jeans, a black tank top, boots, and a coat. I also wear a black beanie, grab my mobile phone, and take out my large handbag. My wolf is purring in excitement.
I'm going to my mate. I have his name and position. It wouldn't be too hard to find him. My parents and sibl
