Fleeting Crimson
Katie had heard of these particular processions from her brother on his return visits from Japan, but the stories always involved elegant women. The breath was knocked out of her when golden hues fell onto the towering, elegant man that was paraded down the center of the street. His chiseled features accentuated in lily white makeup and his eyes dabbed with red at the end. Lips were painted in a deeper crimson and parted ever so slightly. His body was draped in intricate and delicately embroidered kimono. The threading seemed like it was strung from the finest silver. She couldn’t believe how stoic his expression was as he continued down the narrow street with a hand on the shoulder of a tall, dark-skinned woman with cerulean eyes. She just noticed the sandals on his feet. No geta, she corrected herself. She needed to use the proper terminology; she had studied the language after all. No wonder he needed someone steady himself.