and then there was the one who wrote this:

“Soft features.

I’m not even sure that’s a phrase people use, and if it is I’m not sure I’m using it correctly. I don’t know how to say it. Skin something like porcelain but soft like an apricot or Kleenex with lotion, and fucking-A, those eyes. What is that, sea foam? Like maybe they used to be blue, or green, and after an ocean of tears they’re half opaque like a dryer sheet after 40 minutes on high. I feel high just stealing glances. Stealing chances to shift the conversation back to her just for a minute, for a smile and a carefully crafted punchline, just to say hello again and again between drinks and late dinner bites, between anecdotes and alibis. Christ Jesus, you have to hold one hand down with the other to keep from reaching out to touch her hair. You’ve got to keep a drink to your lips to keep them off hers. It’s diabolical. It’s a mousetrap wrapped in gauzy lace and scented with rosewater.

Or chamomile.

There’s definitely hints of chamomile.”