She has flowing locks of maroon covering her face. It curls into perfect swirls half way down to the tips that end below her shoulders. It is split slightly to the left of her face. To the right of her face her hair falls over her right eye. Her face is a perfect shade of the sweetest coffee. Her face is evenly colored except for the light pink from her nose to under her eyes that appears and disappears and appears and disappears. When she tries to focus on her work her deep brown eyes slim down to only focus on her paper. She slowly licks her lips and holds the bottom one between her teeth and she ponders her next move. As she goes on, her mouth moves ever so slowly with every other pen stroke. When she gets stuck she closes her mouth and clasps her lips together and she lifts her eyes and stares into space for a while. A second later, she continues on with her work. When she needs to remember what she was doing she looks up and blinks a few times as if to focus and make everything lucid again. Her offset frame sits in the dark wood chair. Her head tilts to the right to face her work. Her left arm rests on top of the dark wooden table holding her notebook closer to her body. Her right hand moves swiftly trying to write the meaningful words in that metallic cold upon the porcelain white paper. Her expressions, her eyes, and her body focus on the page. Nothing else around her exists. The room filled with random people doesn't faze her at all. She turns to the right and her red curtain covers almost two-thirds of her face. Only her mouth is visible at this point through the maroon locks. Her arm wraps around the book of empty pages and her right hand draws simple lines across the flat surface. In a second, she draws swirls on the page one, two, three, Erase, stop, one, two, three, erase, stop, repeat. She stopped again for a second and she rested her face on her hand. Her eyes narrowed down again and she looked at the page she bit her lip. I'm watching her think, not knowing what her thoughts are and not knowing if I would even want to be in her head right now. As she's thinking she's slowly moves her pencil between your fingers. She holds the yellow wooden pencil between two of her fingers and rubs the eraser on her thumb. And as time goes on she gets a thought and she flips the pencil back over. She hovers the graphite tip right over the page without leaving a mark . Her forlorn expression is looking for meaning in the white pages. She hides her face more and more. I'm not sure why such a beautiful person the hide of face such as hers. I am baffled as I sit across from this beautiful girl. Just hoping to catch her eye and maybe pull a smile. This beautiful girl right here, in this moment, is the world to me.