Her skin was a brown, a bronze brown, a comforting brown, nearly a perfect brown in his opinion.

Her eyes reflected her skin, like the ocean reflects the sky, in perfect harmony and beauty, and he was constantly looking into them for emotion and thoughts but moreover simply to behold them for the beauty they held, the beauty in the chaos.

Her hair was short, and held hints of its once long length. What was once dazzling, sunlight blonde curls that nearly reached her midback was more of a brown that once again seemed to capture the beauty of her skin, and reached just beyond her shoulders and he found it breathtaking in every sense of his own air being sucked out of his lungs and into her own, and for seconds there was no air to breath, water everywhere but not a drop to drink.

And inside this beautiful canvas existed an ethereal chaos, and her chaos was a magnet to his chaos, yet their chaoses hardly blended, they slammed into each other, as did their lips, their lips and chaos both meeting in secret, with extreme intensity, rolling and colliding like waves and made a beautiful and chaotic dance in that metal contraption, cold and empty compared to their warm and passionate embrace and the elevator seemed to hardly even exist as they lost themselves in each other and their lips and their chaoses and then stopped abruptly, in perfect synchronization with the elevator doors. Those few seconds stretched into a blissful eternity, and he relished in them, and in her lips, before they were stolen away once again by reality.

And she was herself. And her is exactly the way he wanted her, no matter what their relationship may be. She was ethereal.