I stumbled upon a fine young man, a rare one among his species; there was nothing fancy schmancy about him. He was donning a simple patterned button blouse paired with a pair of faded jeans. His luscious black hair was combed neatly to one side, leaving a few to curl up naturally. He has a beard and a moustache thick enough to look masculine yet so clean.
Behind those thick round glasses, his gaze was soft and alluring. When he spoke, he sounded like a gentleman from the Victorian era, eloquent, fascinating and calming. He was perfect. One couldn’t help but keep staring at him, and when I caught him looking at me, I got shy and looked away. I was afraid that he’d see me smitten by his smile. Using my peripheral vision, I looked back at him again. I wish I could be in the embrace of his arms. I wish he was mine.
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