Red was the colour of the eyes that looked back at me. I blinked, but the dark lashes of the one before me didn't move. Or maybe I had failed to notice. What was your name I'd wanted to ask, but the words caught in my throat. The red mesmerised me, as did the pale white skin and the long white hair.
I waited and the small face looked me over slowly, giving me a chance to take in his delicate features: the finely arched eyebrows, long nose and small mouth with its almost disapproving lips. And finally, he stepped forward.
Breathlessly, I let the shy and curious hand touch my legs, the hem of my shorts and finally, the light fingertips touched my hand.
He looked up at me and I smiled. I held out my hand slowly and let him touch my palm, his nails scraping against my skin ever so slightly.
I moved back a step and so did he. When he didn't seem as if he would run off with my next movement, I knelt down. Still, I was taller than he was, he with his tiny limbs. He stepped closer and the light curious hands returned to touch my face and my hair.
"What's your name?" I asked softly.
He looked at me and seemed to contemplate, his eyes looking deeply into mine. Then his fingers touched my face again and I stammered out my name.
And I thought I saw his lips curve into a slight smile. But when I blinked, it was gone. Sadness lasted only a fleeting moment, for in the next, he told me his name.