The One Perfect Face (1/3)

slapdashmonuments

Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?


And then I saw her, the face I'd been hoping to find ever since arriving in the country. I had arrived at the airport and, walking down those stairs, I caught a scent in the air, and I knew she would be here, somewhere, probably in a crowd of people. The most beautiful, perfect face, the one I had dreamed of since I'd planned to come here. She was my dream girl in every way, beyond beautiful, and I knew she would make this long voyage worth every dollar.

Every doubt in my heart was released at once, flying in a spreading stream out into the atmosphere. This would be ideal, it would be the Right Way after all. Maybe she wasn't every chap's cup of tea, but she was just what I needed, what I wanted. Her long hair was black streaked with grey and white, and her face, tawny and weathered by years of exposure to the sun, had a multitude of gorgeous lines spreading in aimless disarray.


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