The Artist

I think I noticed her hands first. There were these smudges on the tips of her fingers. They had smeared and left a mark on the glass she held in her left hand. Everyone else was watching her right hand as she waved it high in the air, like she was painting a large canvas of air in front of her, but I couldn't take my eyes off of that left hand. That left hand with the smudged fingers, making her oh-so-adorable. I knew immediately what I had to do.

"Excuse me..." 

The time was right. The dirty, now empty glass abandoned. Now was the perfect time. A moment, a lull, it was all I needed. "Excuse me, miss? Miss, I just thought you should know... You've got a little..." I gestured, running a finger on my left hand across the tip of my nose.

"Oh, Thank you!".

She brushed her nose, leaving the most perfect black smudge.

"Did I get it?"

"Oh, yeah, you got it."