One Tiny Imperfection

He wasn't particularly tall or striking, but there was something about him that captured her heart.

He was intelligent and his voice was raspy, a quality in men that she found to be especially sexy.

His hair was short and dark, with shaved sides.

She remembered thinking that there was nothing really special about him, but then she noticed his eyes.

They were beautifully brown.

Not a dark, murky brown but a light, warm hazel with a hint of amber, and one with a subtle difference.

The blackness of his right pupil bled into the hazy iris, like Indian ink seeping into a watercolour.

A ripple of darkness like a black vein running through marble.

It was mesmerizing.

One tiny imperfection.

A secret passage into his soul.

---

And as she walked through the park,

The branches of the trees beckoned her in the wind

Lining the dirt path like a ceremony of celestial beings.

She listened to the blackbirds sing and the magpies' crow,

And she forgot, just for a moment, the pain she was so overwhelmingly consumed by.