Her manner is dignified, her stride confident. Her words are strong and meaningful, to the point and without excess.
Her eyes are watching for the things people miss.
Beauty radiates from her silken strands of blond hair, her long fingers are delicate, moving in gentle circles over sharp hip bones.
Her wrists pivot as they flick the pen across the page, her wisdom poured out, to be savored, remembered.
The brush of her lips against your cheek is like wings of a dove, a pleasure uncommon. They taste of expensive wine and dark chocolate. They leave your mouth tingling.
Yet she is lonely.