Jaic then turned and there stood, albeit hunched over, a very old woman who appeared very old. Her old, wrinkled face had old, wrinkled skin covering it with a creased fold for every wrinkle. Her large nose stuck out from her face and sported a lump halfway where it suddenly bent downward, reminiscent of Jaic's mom's. Her old, stringy, light gray hair hung low from under her old, dark, oversized hat that sat lazily upon her head and rose high to a point that had long since collapsed sideways under its own miniscule weight from age. The old woman's dress, decorated with prints of flowers trying their hardest to convey that they once possessed vibrant colors, was old, faded, blackened and hid all but her once shiny, black shoes. Her old, wrinkled, pale hands, the paper-thin skin no longer able to conceal the bulging, blue veins and the contours of the shaky bones within, contrasted sharply with the dark dress. This must be the substitute teacher, Jaic guessed.