It was when I walked into the main office that I saw her. Auburn hair spilling over her shoulders and eyes as blue as the water on a calm summer day. She was talking to someone I couldn’t see and saying she wanted to sketch the men working out by the water.
“Katherine, I have told you repeatedly that having your hair hanging down in your face is simply unacceptable. Your mother will finish me if she sees you like this,” came from the unseen corner.
“I am putting it up. I really am. I just can’t find my other comb. And when I dropped my painting supplies under that desk the entire thing just came undone,” she replied.
I just stood there, frozen to the spot. She was determined, I’d give her that as she held on to the painting supplies with one hand and tried to put her hair back up with the other. Not knowing what to say, I stood there staring until she finally looked in my direction.
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