next thing you know

how do you hope to win against such a handsome man

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She had the sort of profile that could've been painted on the side of an ancient greek amphora, or cut out from black card in one of those silhouette portraits from the 18th century. Honestly, I've never seen the curvature of someone's forehead meet the slope of their nose at a more charming angle. Her nose itself culminated in a gentle peak, like a hill from the english countryside, modest and sweet. Her lovely lips were full and downturned slightly, looking vaguely like some kind of sensuous trapezoid. I don't know if there already exists a proper term for that exact shape, but it definitely deserves one - a distinct name of its own, and a dedicated lecture on it for architectural and art and design majors, and an award for the most appealing shape known to man, and for its likeness to be painted over and over again and framed in numerous galleries and museums around the world and eventually auctioned off to be displayed in some ostentatiously dim, velvet-filled private studio for the consideration of generations to come. Her eyebrows floated like manicured clouds, their fading borders measured perfectly. Their edges were slightly higher toward the center, a sort of winsome perplexity etched into her brow, and when she smiled - surreptitiously, never revealing teeth - it was like a single ray of sunlight peeking through a curtain of shade and drizzle. Combined with her coy, coquettish lips, her smiles were subtle concessions and always contained some sense of dolorous mystery.

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I was once told that anything capable of being imagined is a conceivable reality; if it's true then I suppose it must be