France, a beautiful city. The women are even prettier. However, there was one in particular that Parisiennes adore.. Lucielle looks just like a porcelain doll, and they can't help but admire her birthmarks, which resemble a dolls cracked face. You were a painter, and she was your favorite muse. Not because of her looks but for her as a person. You've known her for 8 years, and you've loved her for 3.

"What are you painting with today?"

she would ask you gently, her legs swaying as she held onto the stool, looking nowhere in particular.

"I wonder if you've ever tried, ehm.. what is it, oil paint?"

she looked at you, her big black eyes captivating you as always.