Lunan and Hickory

From my new novel.

Hickory hated that boy. His lips were upturned and pouty, like the lips of an unnaturally beautiful woman in a lipstick advertisement. His nose was just as pouty, round and fairy like, soft but still magnificently sloped. Hair curled down by his ears (which were pointed like a bats) in wisps of baby pink. Pink like cotton candy, hair like cotton candy. From his ears his neck sloped down with stony grace, a hard adam's apple bobbing in the center. Every part of him was otherworldly, and there was never a dull piece of him to examine. His beauty was so irritating to her that she hated him, hated every inch of his foul serenity, because he was given everything his heart desired. His beauty brought him everything he never deserved.
She had never met the prince, she had only heard tales from those who had. Paintings of him hung in every store, his merchandise decorated the room of almost every adolescent girl in the vicinity. It made her furious that womankind was so taken over by this wave of hormonal hysteria. She would never subject herself to that kind of emotional recklessness. He was an empty shell, a face without a soul. As the other women relished in loving and desiring him, she found just as much pleasure in wishing him dead. It was easy to hate someone you didn’t know, someone who had no characteristics except for his appearance. Perhaps she hated him because he resembled her older brother. The brother who would never live to possess such riches.