"I first spotted her on a pleasant, late summer afternoon. She stood across from me while we looking at apples on display at a local farmer's booth. She was striking. She was tall, as tall as me and I'm a little over six feet. Her hair was long, straight, and sable - so dark it had blue highlights where the sunlight hit it. Her face was pale with the light pink and smooth texture of an aristocrat. She had high cheekbones, full, coral lips and a slightly aquiline nose. At the moment I saw her, she had an apple lifted to her nose. Her eyes were closed, the long lashes closed as she savored the aroma of the apple. Had it been a painting, her pose and the obvious and simple pleasure would have taxed the talents of a master!
I could not help myself. She was so beautiful that I dropped the apple I was holding. The sound must have startled her as her eyes snapped open.
And I was smitten!
Her eyes were a deep blue, that rare dark blue that verges on violet. They tracked over and pinned me. Caught! I smiled awkwardly. And I saw her pupils spread wide. Mine must have done the same because she smiled back.
I grinned and said, "How do you like them apples?"
She laughed. It was music. "Actually, I do," she said. But before I could amaze her with another bit o' wit, she turned and walked away!
I wanted to follow, but that would have been gauche at best, stalking at worst. So, stupidly, my mouth hanging open like a cow, I watched her walk away. I could do no other.
"Hey, buddy," said a voice to my right.
I barely heard it as I watched her recede farther and farther away, become just a patch of ebony hair glimpsed across the crowded plaza.
"Hey!"
Annoyed, I turned to the voice. "What?"
"That apple?" The voice was attached to a slender young woman with her red hair tied back and grimy hands "you damage my produce, you bought my produce."
"What are you talking about?" I looked back at the crowd. I stood on my toes and craned my neck, but I could see nothing but the milling crowd. "Damn!" I turned back to the woman. "What produce?"
"Those apples," she said. She pointed at the pavement where a few apples had scattered when I dropped them. One had cracked open from the impact. The others looked, more or less, intact.
"Oh," I said. "Those apples, huh?"
"Yes," she said. "You broke them. You bought them."
I nodded. "Sure." I squatted and retrieved them. I handed them to the woman. "How much?"
With damned little grace, she abruptly turned away and stalked to the scale. She set them on the scale, murmuring, "Spend all that time growing the damned things and no one appreciate them." She glanced the scale. "Four-fifty." She snatched a plastic bag and deposited the apples.
I dug in my pocket and found a five. I tossed it on the table and took the bag. "Keep the change." I stalked away with about as much grace as she displayed toward me a moment ago. She had made me lose sight of that beauty."
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