Her footsteps are lost in the endless pitter-patter. They used to echo across the hall as she strode towards him. Her gait is melodious, as if moving to a beat, a slow ballad perhaps. Her eyes are mesmerizing, filled with wonder yet if one would look closely, just beneath the surface a storm brews.
And I’m scared for myself. I want to know her, but I dare not lose myself in her hurricane.