Her weight settles into the left leg, shoulders turning a fraction as if she paused mid-step. Narrow brows and eyes track the distant laughter, and a cool, calculating focus sits quietly in her gaze. A few faint freckles across the bridge of her nose catch the noon light, and you can still see tiny pores and a hint of autumn dryness on her cheeks. Long hair falls over her shoulders with soft, slightly curled ends, while one stray strand clings near her jaw as a memorable hook. The light gray knit sweater fits close, its texture crisp where shadow edges the collar. In her right hand, a paper coffee cup swings gently, marked by a small stain near the rim. Her left hand hangs in a loose half-fist, and her cherry-toned lips lift at one corner. Ginkgo leaves scatter along the stone path.
