Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty. And, if she was honest, she still didn't. It wasn't her mind that had changed. It wasn't even thhe mind of the world in general. Just the rather pleasant opinion of one particular man who she had met while walking into town. He had caught her eye as she passed, caught her hard and fast in fact. She was forced to an abrupt halt, staggered by it's impact. Not unpleasant, mind. Gentle, but admiring. There was power in that. He had looked and smiled and then complimented her on her looks, telling her in a broad northern accent that she was exceptionally pretty, almost ethereal. Stunnedshe wasn't at all sure what to say. How does one respond to a comment like that? And how does a person unused as she was to compliments of any kind, unless they were directed at her talents, her skills, unless they were about her mind and abilities with the pen and the page, with paints and crayons. To be told that she was attractive physically in any way, well, that was strange. That was unusual. That put a smile on her face that remained long after the moment has passed and well into the evening.
She wondered if she would ever see him again, the strange benevolent man, the man twho had, in a moment, completely changed her life, the man who had instilled in her a littl e confidence and hope. She very much hoped so. He seemed nice, a good, healthy person to know, someone who. Was comfortable in his own skin and could help her to be more comfortable in her