Stories in the Ink

Obsession

She loved that little patch of platinum bang that cascaded down the very center of his brow, lightly crossing his nose and ending in a perfect point. At least to Solona it was perfect. It was the longest in length, strong and glimmering like the gentle rays of the sun.

Indeed, Solona at times felt the urge to caress the little tuff with a finger, twirling and brushing to and fro, like a child lost in a whimsical fantasy. She could see his eyes curiously following her feminine finger as she manipulated him. She could not see him getting mad, or annoyed. She could just see him watching, waiting until she was done. But she would not. It was just a fantasy, something she was too cowardly to do.

Still, she had wondered what Cole's hair felt like. Wondered what it felt like to run her fingers through his hair, pale, clumsy fingers lost in an ocean of gold. However, Solona did not know why she had this urge. She had thought she dreamed of the odd boy taking care of her, the sickness toying with her mind. Now she was not so sure. If Cole had been there, she faintly remembered having her hair being brushed away. But why would the young man in leathers do that? To be nice? He was nice, very nice, she thought. Part of the young woman had wondered if Cole had felt the same way she is now-with the urge to touch and hold. Even if it is just hair. Part of her hoped so. Another part was scared. She didn't want him to know her dark thoughts. So she had been avoiding Cole.

She had heard Dorian mention Cole needed a haircut. Bad. Solona hoped he didn't get a haircut. It would change the Cole she knew-at least physically. What if she didn't recognize him anymore? What if that particular bang didn't grow back and she would never be able to touch it?

Solona sighed, shaking her head. The world was ending, and she was worried about Cole's hair. She cursed herself for being too selfish. She couldn't help it. She loved that little tuff of hair.