#lingenue

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 !     how she could make even the most mundane of moments become pure wonder, each simple sight fascinating to her. must it be a curse to never see that the true sight were herself, in all her curiosity, always a rush of thrown fabrics and expelling gasps with each breath, lips drawn open in a most delicate shape. even now, as she stood at the window, gauzy curtains drawn and face illuminated by a soft, morning light, she looked out over the streets as if seeing them for the first time. her innocent eyes, never knowing!   how could she ?   those pinkened, tender cheeks cause a sigh to fall from his lips. for a time now, some few weeks, they have traveled, sight-seeing upon the unknown shore, breathing in the foreign air and lazing in honeymoon-esque bliss. and although he has grown accustomed to their visit, and the routine, christine still looked upon the city with fresh eyes each dawn.     ❝ — did you believe it would disappear overnight ? ❞     comes his voice, soft, yet still tinged with the strain of nonuse, adjusting yet to the waking day. but no matter how coarse, it is yet spoken with utmost gentility, as if a single syllable might break this idyllic morn.