Everything about her is beautiful. Her olive skin, her gorgeous eyes, that long flowing hair, and her perfect body.
I don’t miss the fact that I must have found that muse again my father spoke of.
I just never thought she would come to me this way.
I walk over to the unused batch of canvases I got eons ago and my paint, hoping they haven’t dried out. They should be okay in the little boxes I stored them in.
The princess watches me as I set up to my easel.
She offers me a smile when I sit and start sketching her.
“That’s the most you’ve told me about yourself,” she states.
“Want to know more?” I push away a lock of hair from my eye.
“Yes.”
“What do you want to know, baby girl?”
“What’s your favorite color? I don’t think it’s black, although you always wear it.”
“The sky,” I reply with a smile.
“The sky?”
“The sky has different colors at different points of the day and night.”
“It does,” she agrees.
“Your favorite color is lilac,” I tell her, and she smiles wider.
“How did you guess that?”
“I pay attention.”
“What’s your favorite food?” she mutters.
“I don’t have one. I eat everything. What about you?”
“Ice cream.”
I chuckle at that. “Then I’ll buy ice cream, cover you in it and lick it off you.”
She laughs, and I pause to commit the sound to memory. I continue to stare, and she notices my fascination.
“What?”
“You just gave me a real laugh.” She said something along those lines the other night when I was talking to Irena.
“I did. Now stay just like that and tell me what your dreams are.” A person always shows the most emotion when they’re talking about their dreams.
She stills and rivets her gaze to me, clearly surprised by the question.
She looks away briefly, into the moonlight. The light catches her eyes, making them look brighter.
“I want to be a doctor,” she says barely above a whisper.
“A doctor?” I check if I heard her right. She nods.
