The Unwieldy Narrator
an excerpt

“What to do, what to do. I don't know what to say to Kat anymore...”
Looking out the window, Naomi noticed a woman—wait,that's not quite accurate. She noticed the dark brown freckles covering her face.
“Christ, that poor woman--”thought Naomi, before she realized that there was a complete stranger in her kitchen that wasn't there three minutes ago. Not an ordinary complete stranger—the freckles were one thing. You could say the woman that was probably not concerned with passing as a straight woman; some puny frat boy calling her a dyke was definitely not something that kept her up at night. She stood about 5'7, strongly built with buzz cut hair.

“Gah—shit! Hi?” The woman kept staring ahead. Naomi, frozen, stared at the woman. Mystery Woman was maybe mid-thirties, and she'd guess a full 350 pounds. She distractedly flicked her cigarette on the floor, wondering how best to initiate contact with this intimidating stranger.

Mystery Woman turned to face her. Her henna colored eyes confronted Naomi, as if she were the intruder. “Smoking'll kill ya, you know.” Soon, her freckles turned a darker brown danced upward into the air, taking with them the entirety of her body.

Naomi decided that merely existing was enough action for her for the next few minutes, and frankly, as your dear friend, the Omniscient Narrator, I can't blame her. I think she managed well. What do you think?