A woman, about twenty one years of age. Her chestnut brown hair was elegantly swept back in a ponytail to reveal high cheekbones, arching eyebrows, and brilliant green eyes that shone with mischief. Her lips were a deep red, and her skin was a pale cream. She was shorter than I, but fiery, with a laugh that could turn the coldest heart to joy.

Her clothes, a simple green dress, perfectly matching her eyes, and slippers made of the same cloth. Teardrop-shaped emeralds hung from a fine gold chain around her neck. She needed no other adornment, for the way she carried herself showed she was more radiant than any jewel. As she whirled around the dance floor, enraptured by the music, joy shone from her face and was evident in her every move. she drew many admirers. She drew many more covetous and envious looks. But she chose me.

And for a while, she was mine.