Before he could escape she halted him in his steps, her great eyes pleading for him to stay. Micah did not understand a thing; they did not know each other, let alone ever laid eyes on one another, yet she so drastically requested he remain in her presence — a delicate, beautiful flower like she, desperate enough to yearn for any stranger, even one as scrawny and timid as he?
As always, she presented herself with more confidence than he could hope for, and though the rapid nervous tremors of his body subsided, he busied his still-trembling hands by pulling at his hair and tracing striped curls, twists of locks similar to hers. "M-My name is Micah," he stammered, taking a few nervous steps closer, but withdrew behind his bangs, unsure what to say. Comfort her? Ask her the problem?
Fiddling with his fingers, Micah maintained a distance. "Do you... um... n-need a hug... or something?"
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