The Colors of Healing

ya adjusted the strap of her leather satchel, the weight of her sketchbooks digging into her shoulder. She had planned a quiet afternoon at t

er from the icy droplets that splashed up from the uneven cobblestones. The heels

appened. Her heel caught on a jagged edge of stone, and the world

ound, two hands caught her

" a voice said

slicked black hair and eyes the color of aged whiskey. There was a kindness in his gaze, but

asked, his voice

from the near fall, but from the intensity of his presence.

rious face. "I almost slipped earlier myself. Let me get that f

, with a faint scar running across his left knuckle. They were the kind of

de?" he asked, nodd

ons she couldn't quite place. "It's my

ing back slightly. "But be careful, okay

arried a hint of something deeper. C

offering a small smile

aid, as if off

me feeling different on her

hat. Then, as quickly as he'd appeared, Daniel turned an

hy her heart felt unsteady, why her fingers itched to sketch the sharp lines of hi

and let her pencil move across the page. Her intention had been to capture the rainy street outside, but instead, she found herself drawing h

e faint warmth of something new. She didn't know it yet, but