Can’t Go Home
Divine Blood: Extra-Curricular
San Antonio, Texas, USA
© 2012 by Luke Garrison Green
All rights reserved.
Róisín was perfect. There was little else that the man sitting beside her gently sleeping form could say to accurately describe her. Black hair hung loose down to just below her shoulders. Not just black hair, glorious hair that seemed almost as if it was a piece of the night sky draped over her head. The beads of sweat along her locks failed to mat the hair down as it would with any other woman, instead it enhanced the image of the evening spun shawl by glittering like stars against the dark.
This was contrasted against alabaster skin that never seemed to tan. Lying beside him now, she seemed a fey ghost of snowy hills against the comparative darkness of the cream blankets. She was unscarred, despite the years that she’d lived a very active life style. There was no natural mark on her that wasn’t mirrored on the other side of her body. Róisín had softened the impact of her symmetry by a liberal practice of tattooing herself with asymmetrical designs.
Once her eyes opened in the morning, he would find them a deep, chocolate brown of a shade that he’d never quite seen duplicated in any other woman. They were large and watery, but just to the tipping point of perfection. Like everything else about her, they were beautiful. Even with the small line of tears that traced from the corners of her eyes in her sleep.