She carried her beauty like a burden.

She was slim, with high cheekbones and almond eyes and fine, feathered blond hair that reminded him of some eighties disco queen, an impression furthered by her silky black blouse, laced with metallic stripes. Yet she seemed far more serious than her fashion sense implied.

When she turned, he saw that a scar notched the edge of her jaw. Somehow, the mark only enhanced her looks. Even her sullenness was oddly attractive. Yet she didn’t seem arrogant or vain. Perhaps she bore a touch of self-consciousness about the scar, mixed with the self-protection of a woman who unintentionally drew the attention of every man she passed.

What I would really like, he couldn’t help thinking, would be to give this woman a good reason to smile.