abyss ✄ short stories;poems

Reading Looks

I liked the way she looked when she read.

She was always reading.

Always.

I remember her like that, eyes down, hair in her face, focusing on whatever book she was reading that day.

She had a look of content on her face, as if the world could end but as long as she could finish that chapter it would be okay.

Sometimes she would look up, see me looking at her and she'd smile, showing off that beautifully crooked smile of hers.

She would let out a small laugh

(not her crazy laugh, consisting of snorts that only an animal could recognize, she reserved those only for when i made a fool of myself)

and say,

"What? is there something on my face?"

then she would grab her face, feeling to find a imperfection, finding none at the moment she would let her hands fall back in her lap, then back up to her book grasping the covers so they wouldn't slip away.

I would chuckle and shake my head,

"There's nothing on your face."

almost immediately she'd say,

"Then why were you staring at me?"

I wouldn't say anything only give her a look and a small, half whole smile.

then

She would look back down at her book, blushing only a little, trying so hard to hide the dimple she had on her left cheek, right below the freckle she thought was so ugly.

(I didn't think it was ugly, frankly I liked the freckle it gave her face soul, like a her skin was a canvas and her features were a beautiful painting)

I would, by that time, have completely forgotten what I was doing and try to find something for my hands, completing forgetting her question.

she would smile and shake her head, raise her eyebrows

she would point her head in the direction of my worksheet that is now lying on the floor at my feet because I was too busy staring at her while she read

because

I liked the way she looked when she read.