Out of Dust
Her hair was dark and gleaming flowing softly to her shoulders curling slightly at the ends. The cut had been feathered in blending layers away from the gentle lines of her face. Her head was bent in concentration while she carefully examined the illustration lying on the desk.
He stood by the door reluctant to interfere with her absorption. She sighed and without looking up from the sheet in front of her reached out and found a drawing pencil, bringing it back to slash dark lines across the top of the diagram she was working on.
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