Her face was a faded grey, shaded from the sunlight that came from the window behind her. She couldn't see it, but her hair looked a bronze in that light. It looked so smooth, I moved my hands slowly to touch it. But I was careless and woke her up from slumber. Her eyelids fluttered and closed, then her eyebrows scrunched itself in confusion.
"Good morning," I said.
She turned her face - eyelids still shut - towards me and came closer, looking for warmth. "Were you staring at me sleeping? That's creepy, you know."
"You're too pretty," I told her, slightly joking in the sincirity. She didn't say anything, but instead she smiled slightly before burying her face in my shoulder. I pulled her closer and felt the warmth from her back and the chill from her arms. It was odd, but she was beautiful like that.
"I wonder how you can look in the mirror and not ponder on how pretty you are," I told her.
"Because all I see are my flaws," she whispered.
It made me slightly uncomfortable - as if she felt insecure, but the reason I was here was to make her feel better. To feel safe - no matter where she is or who she's with or who she is. So I touched her face, brushing her cheeks - slightly rough from the acne in her adolescent years, but warm to touch with my cold fingers - and told her "Your flaws are pretty too."
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Just a little drabble.