He was a budding art student. She was his muse although he'd never let her know it. He loved the way her eyes reflected the light on a warm and sunny summers day and how she refused to walk with an umbrella when it rained. He talked to her once and her voice reminded him of a hot drink on a cold day; rich and filling and sultry. He loved how she would bite her pen or lip when she was thinking and how she had a slight obsession with coats. She was his inspiration when he painted a figure dancing in the rain or wandering through a forest like something from a time more mysterious. Like that was where she belonged, like it was welcoming her home. She was the reason his fingers lazed a blues over ivory keys; cigarette perched between his lips and whiskey in a glass on top of the piano, when he tried to make eye contact with her from across the bar where they both frequented. She was the reason he scribbled poems in lectures while the professor rambled on about the history of art; poetry that talked of beauties and stars and natures. Poetry that would be ripped out of his book and cast off the bridge on his walk home so she would never know. He had seen her walking past his lecture halls when she should be preparing for her exams- learning. But he has summarized that like the forests he painted her in she was wild and free. He didn't even know her name. She was an enigma that had taken over his thoughts and it was her hair that first got him to notice her. It was a bright and fiery red that was always in wild curls- much like his own. A Russian quote he had found had said that 'there never was a saint with red hair'. She couldn't be a saint; she was too tempting. The way her coat hugged her figure and her skirt was several inches shorter than her high school deemed appropriate. She was trouble and trouble had never been so beautiful. She would never know she was his muse, his passing whim. He was a budding art student, nothing special; living in a rundown apartment in Paris with a slight addiction to alcohol and smoking and her. But she would never know, he would never tell her. And he never did.