Prologue

My identity? It isn't unusual. Just your regular Wang Yibo. Chinese. I am an artist in general. I do lots of things. I write, draw, I sing (but I don't particularly take this as an occupation), dance mostly and most importantly, I observe.

Out of all the things I generally observed to find my muse were basically your normal trees, sidewalks, beaches, too. Nothing out of the ordinary. I chew my bottom lip out of habit and walk down those familiar dirty sidewalks.

Benches were there, too. Usually, I'd find them occupied by couples, off each others faces. I find it disgusting considering the fact that they're in public. Things like these should be taken with caution in my opinion.  I noticed none of the couples were here. Therefore it concludes that today was unusual. There were no noises that clouds the atmostphere. No giggles, and hushed teases. It was silent.

Her posture was strange. It wasn't that usual girl that'd wait for someone to pick her up, no. Her face was ordinary yes, nothing unique. But her smile was what intrigued me. She smiles dreamily as she stares at the blue sky.

I look up to find that nothing was there. Just the blue sky painted with cotton balls. It was strange. She was strange.

There was something off by the way she acted. I don't know what.

It was unusual, yes. But sometimes, everything has to be unusual before you can pick up something that can be deemed worthy enough of your own eyes. It was beautiful.

She was beautiful.