“She was tall and graceful, with a neck like a swan and hair like Pampas grass. Her lips were full but slightly compressed, as thought she were feeling dyspeptic. Her skin was the color of cafe au lait into which someone has sprinkled a dash of saffron, if you get my meaning.
She was voluptuous and gave the impression of being dimpled, though I don’t remember the site of any indentation. Her accent was either British or Greek. Her eyes were pale but the ring around the iris was exceptionally dark. It was like a flurry of black koi, swimming so fast as to be a blur, circling a nylon-clear pond.
I sensed a furtiveness, but that may have been due to her eyelashes. They were heavy but light, like an ostrich feather fan covering the face of someone shy, guilty or flirtatious. She smelled of cloves. She was accompanied by a small, dark, forgettable man.
I think I’ve described enough for you to make a fine picture.”
–Sarah Torribio
Read more flash fiction by Sarah Torribio HERE
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