MARGAUX
I scoffed, my footsteps echoing in my ears as I slowly made my way towards the waiting black limousine, Shiro's trademark symbol painted on the side of the car.
I stopped by the short distance of the car, folding my arms across my chest as the man stepped out.
He didn't fail to exceed how I had imagined him to look like.
Black tux and a fedora on top of his head. Shiro could be one of those models in a fashion magazine, his deep-set eyes stared at me knowingly.
But, contrary to the long hair which I had expected, I could imagine a messy shaggy style, the tips of his hair slightly peeking under the fedora he had on.
His high bridge nose and perfect smile could captivate any woman, his teeth glistening against the night light.
A single rose was attached to his breast pocket and everything about him screamed like the classic Shiro I pictured out in my head.
Finally coming to a stop in front of him, we exchanged a small bow.
