Nothing striking by Olga Guniavaia

There was nothing striking about her at all.
I looked closer at her short green denim shorts. Dear Lord, a combination of green color and jeans – who do you have to be to even think of that? Oh, right, the same person who wears a T-shirt with Peppa the Pig. He grunted listlessly.  It reminded him of his younger sister, and how he used to take her home from the kindergarten. It was like an eternity ago.
He drank some coffee. Nothing striking.
And these stupid braids. If someone truly believes it’s nice that they are constantly bouncing around, well, then it’s rather a pity, not something funny. She seemed to be like twenty years old, and still had braids with pink rubber bands. Stupid.
He turned his gaze to his papers. This contract should have been finished by evening. But his eyes twitched involuntarily, and she was in his sight again. She was just about to make an order. He sighed deeply and took a closer look. Well, a face like any other. Nothing striking. Dim eyes of an obscure color, a retrousse nose. She was in a process of choosing what to order, intently biting her lips. “Grandma seems to have had the same bad habit.” And those eyebrows... Emilia Clark fades in comparison.
For some reason, he found it funny. He looked away. It was time to focus on that ill-fated contract. He looked through the first couple of paragraphs. Crossed out a couple of lines.
And then he noticed that she had already taken her order and sat right in front of him.
For some reason, he suddenly got angry. And how is he supposed to work here if she attracts all his attention? Not at all strikingly, she buried herself in the book but only running her fingers through the hair so that it would not get into her eyes. The hair was dark and long, if she’d made a ponytail, it would have been much more convenient. And the way she sat – legs crossed, elbows on the table – was not elegant at all.
And what’s she even reading? He did not have time to check because she put down the book and picked up the phone – it seemed that a friend called her. And how suddenly she laughed! It was completely out of the blue; but her eyes were just as serious and not striking.
It turned out that she was reading Tom Sawyer. It was utterly not striking, just like how carefully she turned the pages and how hard she wrinkled her forehead. As if nothing else mattered – just that piece of paper.
He didn’t give a damn about the contract anymore, staring at her undisguisedly – after all, you don’t usually meet someone so not striking. There was something unusual in each of her movements, the inflections of her body seemed unique, and the emotions on her face couldn’t be copied.
His friend fell on a chair nearby.
“Who are you looking at?” – was the question.
“There’s this girl,” he answered vaguely. “Nothing striking.”
Next thing he knew, she looked up at him. For some reason, his heart missed a beat. She smiled gently – and it was the most striking thing in the world.