One look at her and the pain in my hand vanished. Her chestnut hair was long and full, parted in a perfectly straight line down the middle. It hung past her shoulders in thick, silky strands. Her deep-set eyes were the color of my favorite dark-roast wood stain. Her lips were plump beneath the regal bridge of her nose. The green forest light illuminated her olive skin. Her classic beauty was out of place on my dusty porch.
