Her figure slender and willowy, reminiscent of a soft willow bending in the breeze, every step filled with grace and allure.
The evening cool breezes dissipated some of the fuzziness in his mind but couldn't clear the mist before his eyes, he strived to open them, yet still couldn't recognize that shadowy figure.
The person stood still before him, the evening wind carrying the faint fragrance from their body.
Between consciousness and unconsciousness, he heard a soft sigh. A voice delicate yet somewhat flirtatious, like a voice traveling through the mountains in the early morning, "You see, without me, you always end up in a mess."
The figure leaned down, a Cold, boneless, soft hand rested on the young man's forehead.
With great effort, Louis Snyder tried to hold the hand on his face, then opened his eyes with difficulty. At the sight of that face, he gasped, his voice turned hoarse,"Hannah."
