When he walked into my Italian class, the only thing that caught my attention was the eyebrow piercing sitting on his face. He was average all over; average height, a decent body, brown hair paired with brown eyes. His shirt had the name of the band of it, although I don't remember which one. He was quiet, and if it weren't for the following event I probably wouldn't have even remembered him. In the middle of an exercise our teacher called on him to answer. He opened his mouth, and out spilled the most beautiful, flawless Italian. I had never heard something so pure and gorgeous. Hearing him speak was like running through endless green hills in nothing but silk underwear. Perhaps what made it so stunning was the fact that he was so seemingly normal, no one could have ever guessed he was fluent in Italian. I couldn't take my eyes off of him the entire time. His mystery. His eyebrow piercing. His toussled hair. I'm going to talk to him by the end of the week, or at least the end of the month.