So this is really short, but I decided to publish it in because of that one favourite I got today. You guys are angels.

The Most Beautiful Thing

"Solomon?" He glanced towards her with raised eyebrows, a silent query. Sheba was frowning down at her blank sketchpad, pencil poised like a dancer from a paused play. "What's the most beautiful thing?" He swiftly memorized the page number before letting his book fall shut. A slender finger tapped at the worn leather bound cover twice and slowly before answering. Sheba asked questions like these. Ones without much significance, but compiled into a sprawling wealth that was her signature. She could make him think so very differently. Loving her-it was easier than breathing, more irresistible than the best of books. Solomon gazed sightlessly at the gaps between words, refusing to be distracted by the curve of her lips, the natural dip and swell of her body.

"A liberal world without conflict or oppression where the all people are equal. A paradise where people can find personal purpose. That is the most beautiful thing."

Her smile was distracted.

"Yeah, I guess so."

It could've been hours later, brought on by the bruised orange sky that rekindled their conversation. They did this, you see, rescuing strands of interaction from days passed. So attentive were they to each other, so often their thoughts lingered even upon the most trivial of pursuits.

"Why did you ask?"

"I wasn't sure what to draw," She managed around the rim of her cup, pencil skipping like faraway hail. Solomon felt for a moment intrigued, an emotion long buried by the shovels of responsibility and the dirt of uncertainty. Had she managed to encompass his dream between the fine strokes of graphite? Wordlessly, he pried the sketchpad from her unresisting grasp, only to see his own portrait there in light, erasable pencil.

I'm desperate for ideas, guise. Please help me if you have any!