Lottie had an unguarded gaze and her lips and eyes smiled simultaneously. You couldn’t help but believe that she was truly happy to see you. I had heard her call patients ‘gorgeous’ but the one time she had called me this, I had blushed from the inside out and understood what it must feel like, to actually be gorgeous. Lottie’s dark hair was usually looped into a glossy topknot and her pale forehead was framed by tendrils that curled in the moisture of faint perspiration at her temples.
Her eyes were incredibly large and curious, like a cartoon princess’s, over-scored by full, arched eyebrows. It seemed to be the law for the Children’s Ward nurses to look glorious. Perhaps it was like dog owners, the more time we spent with our patients, the more we resembled them.
I noticed that Lottie’s eyes were exactly the same shade as her hair. It felt as though you were looking straight through her eyes and onto her hair. Whilst my eyes were defocussed at this disconcerting illusion, she must have touched me lightly on the arm because I smelt a faint waft of fabric conditioner from her crisp uniform. I realised with a start that she was waiting for an answer.
(This is part of an assignment on the ‘Start Writing Fiction’ course through Future Learn. The aim of this piece is to add detail to the initial piece of writing, ‘Blush’, in the process of character development).