Viktoria POV
“Can I help you, ma’am?” I ask, my eyes on the woman’s feet.
They’re back on the floor, or . . . did I imagine them floating? The woman smiles sweetly, her bright eyes gliding lazily over my face, down my neck, and lingering briefly over my chest, then lower, over my stomach. It’s not a lustful gaze. It’s the studying kind of gaze. I follow her gaze, feeling suddenly exposed. Her eyes drift around the classroom, taking in the rows of tiny desks and colorful posters, before returning to me.
The fluorescent light comes on in the hallway and I see her more clearly. I realize her skin is as pale as chalk. Her eyes are a soft, dreamy brown, golden when she turns her head and the light hits them right. Her hair is long and silvery gray, falling down her shoulders like liquid moon
