When Zelda walked in, I couldn’t keep my eyes from looking anywhere but her.

She was _beautiful_.

Her hair was a dark brown, and in the sun sparkled almost golden.

Her face was pale, but fair and sharp.

Amber eyes lite up her face, and dark lashes fluttered up and down.

Her nose was straight with a small bump.

Zelda was beautiful in an artist’s eye; in my eyes she was divine.

Every angle of her face held a different sort of grace.

I feared my painting could not completely capture her beauty.

But despite my worries, I dipped my paintbrush and began painting the most beautiful woman.