Paint yourself a picture and than burn it.

SS wrote about what her love potion would smell like. Mine would smell like ciramic paint and dark chocolate and remind you of carosel rides in the snow. It would look like light shinking in through an open window on a summer day, and sparkle when the liquid light was touched by the sun.

I forgot to say this after that whole speech thing, we only had like 5 minutes left of Language A; and I got to go starit to art. Since I was sitting there looking tottaly bored Isabelles dad asked me if I wanted to cut glass (in art we're making mosaic murals in the hall and for outside.) I know it was isabelles dad because he was built like her, except all washed out with age. The only thing that wasnt toned out, was his pitch brown eyes that stood out against his wrinkly tan skin. He reminded me of my dad, except I think her dad coulve been nearly impossibly shorter than my dad (my dads just under 5'6, like 5'5.5) but has a different facial structure. iI agreed, and immediatly liked him, he complemented my glass cutting skills and I explained to him how I did myi ilp on staned glass last year, and had lots of practice. He explained to me how he worked as an art teacher for 8 years, and now he has an art studio where he makes windows.
For a moment there I almost forgot about being shuned by a clueless principal. Only Almost.