I was sitting in a dull and forsaken place when she walked in and sat down behind me.  It was almost as if she was a force pulling my eyes to look at her.  I couldn’t help it.  She actually looked like someone you see on an album cover or billboard.  She was unbelievable.  It was as if I had just seen some angelic form walk into the windowless classroom.  She lit up the place with her own natural light.
Her blonde hair fell down her back like a golden wave.  It was the same golden color as a ready to harvest wheat field flowing back and forth in the gusts of wind.  It was stunning.  Her eyes were almost ridiculously huge like a puppy’s when you are leaving it home alone, and it’s sad that you are leaving.  They were a blue, so deep, so stunning that they made you feel like you had fallen into the artic below the ice.  I couldn’t stop looking at her.  I looked at her in complete shock wondering where someone could acquire all of that beauty.  I didn’t have any real attraction to her other than her beauty, but it wasn’t a normal attraction.  It was more like looking a piece of art or listening to a well-written song; it just felt like you wanted to keep the art in front of you or keep listening to the song on repeat.
She wasn’t particularly shy, but she was very soft spoken.  She seemed to ease her voice into conversations in what seemed to be the most polite way.  Polite seemed to be another way to describe her.  She had the manner of a southern belle.  I had lost myself trying to take in her gorgeous looks.  It was hard for me to look at her most of the time because I had to find a reason to keep turning myself around in my uncomfortable seat. 
Like I said, she wasn’t shy so I did manage to lasso words out of my mouth towards her.  She replied to me as if I was an adult interviewing her and she was an innocent little girl describing herself to me.  I really wasn’t sexually attracted to her at all.  I couldn’t even think about her in that way.  I just respected her beauty too much.  Doing anything like that to her would be like being asked to drive a 1960’s Ferrari.  Any person would love to drive the car, but once you stand next to it you can’t trust yourself.  You don’t want to wreck it. 
I wanted to take her picture just to be able to remember what she looked like.  I couldn’t get myself to sneak taking a picture of her because it felt like I was almost stealing.  It felt like her looks were almost copyrighted like the pictures of models on the front of magazines that make other women feeling horrible about themselves.  Besides, I couldn’t forget what she looked like.  She was too prominent, too striking to forget.
Too know that I will see her again is good news, because looking at her is almost like a drug.  I had a constant urge to look at her.  She was like a Greek goddess statue that had come to life.  She truly was a piece of art.