She had an elegant habit of breathing out words like cigarette smoke, each syllable scattering before they had the chance to connect into comprehensive phrases. There were i-n-g’s and “are”s in confusingly inappropriate contexts, and nearly every sentence had a tendency to shift into french before they even slipped halfway out of her dark lipstick-stained lips. Although, surprisingly, considering her incredible passion for travel, not one tip of her stiletto heels had ever come into contact with French soil. You’d be able to tell her personality as soon as you heard her speak. And, please, don’t let her “darling”s and beautiful, melodious voice fool you into believing that she’ll stay with you forever, because I can guarantee that she’ll be planning a new adventure with every breath she takes. An adventure that you won’t be a part of.
Despite the considerable droop underneath her eyes, and the spontaneous adaptations in her mood, she was flawless. Whether it be six in the morning or half past twilight in the evening, each stitch of her dress managed to rest calmly on her deeply tanned skin, and the wind was never strong enough to blow her voluminous coffee colored hair out of place. She carried herself in a way that conveyed confidence without being overbearing and unapproachable. In fact, it was difficult for her to walk down the busy streets of Manhattan without being stopped once, or twice, or six times. Occasionally, desperate men follow her wide-brimmed hats all the way back to her apartment. These are the times when she feels the most alone.
"She's a puzzle, but she's worth solving." - r.m.
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