Elvis carried Isadora gently, his walking pace becoming smoother as he tried to not increase the pain this woman might be feeling. For a second, he was tempted to look at her face again. Truly, she was really beautiful.
She was uniquely beautiful. Never in his life had he seen someone with a dark full eyebrow like hers. Though her skin was slightly pale, her lips gave more life to her appearance. Full, red lips.
What and why was he thinking of that?
Her hair was the most dangerously unique feature. Her hair was dark, shiny, curly and at the same time, it looked like it was magically platted into long matted strings. In short, her hair was no ordinary hair. If he could recall very much, these kinds of hair were known to be called dreadlocks and there was no way people with dreadlocks existed. It was like a myth.
