Dark hair, almost black, straight, falling over the shoulders of her pale grey jumper, her fringe brushed to one side by her pale fingers. She sips from a bottle of orange juice, each movement refined, studied as the lip of the bottle presses against her own full lips. Her cheeks blushed pink naturally by the chill wind on the platform, the tip of her slender nose, not sharp, but gently tapered. Dark brown eyes, bright with intelligence move beneath long lashes.
No makeup today, none needed to smooth the already flawless complexion, smooth skin, soft on her cheeks. The V neck of her jumper reveals a crucifix pendant, silver on a long silver chain, the lower tip of the cross nestled between her large breasts, pointing into her deep, cream fleshed cleavage, a hint of lace from her dark blue bra just visible. She stands momentarily, turning to place her bag on the overhead rail, her jeans clinging to the curves of her firm buttocks, her long legs shapely in their form.
A vision of beauty….