“She’s not beautiful in the classic sense, with perfectly ordered, chiseled features. She’s … unusual looking. Delicate. Soft.” He realized he was babbling, but he couldn’t help himself. “She’s … striking,” he said, sitting up straighter, his palms pressed together. “Striking in the way that takes your breath away, as if you’ve just come around a corner and unexpectedly stumbled across a field of brilliant flowers, wild and—and unordered, just as nature designed them. Do you see what I mean?”