From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:

Every word that escaped his thin rosy red lips is just as wondrous and was perfectly pronounced and elucidated with his Scottish accent. His white fair teeth gritted at the ee-ing words. His golden blond windswept hair makes his appearance more attractive and cool. And his hazel nut eyes which seemed to glisten as he stares at the sky. He is a perfect epitome of perfection.

His actions were convincing the listeners of how the author felt about writing the sonnet, carefully conveying the words into fruitful words and vamoose his lips. His eyes were full of sincerity and passion and you could see it through his eyes, in his soul that it was him, it was his quest, and it was what's inside him. It's what he really is.

Blake opened her sketchpad and took her drawing pen. She started at the pure white paper with undefined size and measures of . Glimpse per glimpse, per . Subtle for the face's shape; darkening the jawline, curvaceous cheekbones and elongated cheek-line and temple part. She drew the delicate parts under his eyes which are dark. She almost had to memorize the man's face structure for almost staring at him within an hour and a half of every single day of two months. Blake's eyes focused on the figure drawn in the paper. The guy's jawline were bold and emphasized which made it more artsy. His eyelashes were stunning, thick and long. Blake continues on exaggerating the parts as she completely drew it as what she has imagined moving and seeing the guy closer in her sight. She has never made an eye contact with this man.

And finally his swirling, flowing dramatic angled hairstyle, shading coarsely and unevenly.

The guy's performance was finished, as the entire crowd gave him applause and complimented him of how cool and wonderful he has performed in front of them. Eventually, Blake closed the pad and put it back in her satchel. She wore back her newsboy cap on her head and wore her satchel at her side. She culled out three bucks of dollars from her pocket, and walk closer to the profited man.

The man got down one of his knees folded and one rested on the ground; he slowly collected the cashes which were thrown on the fiber smooth cloth lying over to a cold cemented floor of the street. Blake bent her knee in forty-five degrees then released the coiled money in her fist. Getting back to her stance, she slowly bent up her knees.

A sudden tight grip from below made her world stop for a reason, the touch of their skins sends small amounts of volts to her spine. She was frozen for the moment she realized that the man grabbed her hand.

She turned her head to her shoulder to discover the unforeseen event that she never had imagined would happen in her life. Heavy sweats beading on her forehead despite of the cold atmosphere. She gulped her saliva and nervously looked at the man's eyes.

Blake looked at the man in his eyes, her eyes widely staring at him, her expression were so surprised and nervous and happy and frustrated.

"Oh, uh..." he started, breaking the gaze. "I think you just dropped like almost 3 bucks?" he asked completely confused and surprised. His eyes were shining while looking at her and totally vague.

"W-why? Uhm.. Does it not comply with the rules of minimum and maximum of solicitude or something?" Blake said nervously almost stuttered.

Finally, the Man decided to let go of Blake's hand. Blake turned to face him with an absolute pale look on her face. She her lips and bit the lower part. The Man was remained astonishing making Blake's mind lost its . The Man's eyebrows were furrowed while looking up at Blake making his dark brown eyes accentuate, his lips were rosy, wet, and kissable, and his pose was a complete temptation.

"N-no No. It's even too big for me to accept." The man said. His Scottish accent was overwhelming and such a heaven to hear. "This is too much." He said while nervously smiling, looking at the money then to her.

"Uh.. no, you deserve that. Good job." The words were said swiftly. "Uhh.. By the way, I got to go. Bye." She said and without any more response she turned her back at the Man then walked away, balling her palms into fists and biting her lower lip, she walked hastily just to escape the embarrassing locus.

The Man is still staring at the fading figure of the girl, curiously asking himself why she acts so weird and all. His eyebrows furrowed, he knew he has seen the girl somewhere and he knows they already met before.

"Weird," is the only word he said then continued on collecting the money.

----

Blake took off her shoes after getting home. She heaved an exaggerated sigh as she saw the messy surroundings: clothes scattered everywhere, drugs on the table, cigarettes and empty bottle of beers standing on the table. She took off her trench coat and her satchel to the single chair. She prepared to collapse on the soft sofa in the living room.

She wandered her eyes all around the place, it was really messy and by messy it meant like a tornado, a hurricane and a storm joined forces and ambushed her house and it helped her getting a hard headache.

A figure of a man with a flamboyant smile crossed her mind when she tried to close her eyes. His blond hair was gleaming with power. He was dazzling in the black abyss. As the thoughts and things faded away inside her mind, she slowly fell asleep going to either a dream or a nightmare or just into an absolute nothingness.