Cerulean

Aislyn studied his every movement as if constructing a character sketch in her mind. She drew his face and coloured in his eyes: cerulean flecked with green and ringed by dark brown. She caught herself before she began colouring in the freckles that faded up his fingers. Aislyn had to remind herself to live in the moment.

Photo: silentspring

Scar

A wide, waxy scar ran from his left earlobe, below is jawline, and terminated at the tip of his chin; four inches of imperfection not caused by a careful scalpel, rather something more threatening.

Photo: liquidkid1

Fatal Imperfection

Riley talked about building houses and fixing cars like they were skills every well-bred lawyer possessed. His confidence and bravado were enticing. Under his suit and what some would consider effeminate qualities, he was a real man. He knew much about the world of men: camping, fishing, motorcycle repair, plumbing and the maintenance schedule of a vintage Jaguar. Aislyn kept waiting to find his flaw: the fatal imperfection that sent her running from the relationship.

Photo: DigitalRuin

Society Wife

Aislyn slipped inside without being noticed and let Horatio off his leash. The Great Dane slid among the crowd with he stealth of an alley cat. When a guest noticed the mammoth dog, Horatio bowed his head in chivalrous mockery; however, the vain canine was merely showing off his new red collar studded with faceted cut glass. The old boy flashed his jewels like a society wife wiggling her wrist to get everyone to notice her new bracelet.