Walking along the street I saw the most beautiful girl in the world: a mane of auburn hair, eyes that contained the ocean, oval face too big for her lithe body, just a bit of a bum, and an air of melancholy I could feel from 20 feet away.
My first thought was that THIS is the kind of face men would start a war over--
--and my second thought?
I would rather merely have my beautiful moments, because beautiful doesn't mean the person you love notices all the things you want them to. Is it possible to be too captivated by a face?
So I tucked my fingers more tightly into my pockets and hurried home to the promise of a budding something that has little, if anything, to do with my face.