Status: done, son.
Nonpareil
miracles.
‘Tragic.’
Her tongue slithered over her bottom lip, moistening it from corner to corner. Her fingers curled on her the white napkin sitting on her lap, squeezing it a couple of times before moving upward to twirl strands of her dark, ebony hair.
‘Just tragic.’
The words trailed over and over in her head, wrapping around her brain, and dipping into her blood, spreading itself all over her body until every single one of her limbs knew just exactly what she was talking about. She stopped her nose from crinkling when her eyes spied him by the corner, his head whirling around over and over, surely looking for his date. She scoffed. ‘Miracles do exist in this world.’
He was already such a marvel to her she could hardly be anymore surprised than she already was. It left her to wonder just who could it be he was looking for. Who was enough of a blind fool to have dinner with that. She shuddered.
He was next to nothing.
Her head cocked to the side, being sure to only take glances while she studied him, her fingers tugging at the table cloth. He wasn’t very tall or fit, his stature probably just a little above her, his weight somewhat above what it should be for his height. His face was purely circles; plump cheeks, button nose, round eyes. She sighed. The face of child. Her eyes trailed down to his outfit. Old, washed-out band shirt, torn jeans, and sandals. For a guy with his kind of toes he should never wear those kinds of shoes in his life. He didn’t belong at that restaurant. And from the looks others gave him she knew she wasn’t alone with her thoughts.
Her eyes casted downward at her lap.
But the one thing she couldn’t even glimpse at was his hair. Her nose finally scrunched upward, her lips tightly pressing together. Curls and curls of dirty, dark hair fell over his entire head, reaching just below his shoulders, almost covering up his face. When he bent his head downward it was obvious he was developing a bald spot right on top of his head, his fingers combing through it, trying to push it back. She cracked her knuckles, forcing herself to straighten her back and look forward.
She was pristine in comparison. Her face had soft features with rosy cheeks, her clothes were fashionable and accessorized; her hair was colored, dried, and straightened down her back. When she smiled everyone turned to have a peek. When her eyes met someone else’s, they couldn’t help but stare. Even when she let out the most simple laugh emit from her throat, people would fall enchanted to its charm. Her lips curled into a smile. No one could match up to her within the room. No one could match up to her in the city. She was a princess amongst peasants. She was a goddess amongst worshippers.
But when he waved at her, she waved back.
Her tongue slithered over her bottom lip, moistening it from corner to corner. Her fingers curled on her the white napkin sitting on her lap, squeezing it a couple of times before moving upward to twirl strands of her dark, ebony hair.
‘Just tragic.’
The words trailed over and over in her head, wrapping around her brain, and dipping into her blood, spreading itself all over her body until every single one of her limbs knew just exactly what she was talking about. She stopped her nose from crinkling when her eyes spied him by the corner, his head whirling around over and over, surely looking for his date. She scoffed. ‘Miracles do exist in this world.’
He was already such a marvel to her she could hardly be anymore surprised than she already was. It left her to wonder just who could it be he was looking for. Who was enough of a blind fool to have dinner with that. She shuddered.
He was next to nothing.
Her head cocked to the side, being sure to only take glances while she studied him, her fingers tugging at the table cloth. He wasn’t very tall or fit, his stature probably just a little above her, his weight somewhat above what it should be for his height. His face was purely circles; plump cheeks, button nose, round eyes. She sighed. The face of child. Her eyes trailed down to his outfit. Old, washed-out band shirt, torn jeans, and sandals. For a guy with his kind of toes he should never wear those kinds of shoes in his life. He didn’t belong at that restaurant. And from the looks others gave him she knew she wasn’t alone with her thoughts.
Her eyes casted downward at her lap.
But the one thing she couldn’t even glimpse at was his hair. Her nose finally scrunched upward, her lips tightly pressing together. Curls and curls of dirty, dark hair fell over his entire head, reaching just below his shoulders, almost covering up his face. When he bent his head downward it was obvious he was developing a bald spot right on top of his head, his fingers combing through it, trying to push it back. She cracked her knuckles, forcing herself to straighten her back and look forward.
She was pristine in comparison. Her face had soft features with rosy cheeks, her clothes were fashionable and accessorized; her hair was colored, dried, and straightened down her back. When she smiled everyone turned to have a peek. When her eyes met someone else’s, they couldn’t help but stare. Even when she let out the most simple laugh emit from her throat, people would fall enchanted to its charm. Her lips curled into a smile. No one could match up to her within the room. No one could match up to her in the city. She was a princess amongst peasants. She was a goddess amongst worshippers.
But when he waved at her, she waved back.
♠ ♠ ♠
~★✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* \(⊙‿⊙✿)/ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧★~
bishes better comment.
bishes better comment.