There were freckles splattered around the bridge of her nose.
She was looking straight ahead, admiring the nameless canvas in front of her. Her chest was rising and falling slowly, as if she was in a very relaxed state; admiring the beautiful piece of artwork hung in front of her own eyes.
Her cheeks were a rosy pink.
He knew he had to talk to her. He didn’t know how, but he had to.
Her heart beat was a slow pace, but his was palpitating fast, admiring the girl who was admiring the art.