Chittey

The sight made her raise her eyebrows in surprise. He wasn’t at all like the image she had imagined. On the plane, she had secretly pictured her guide – a dark-skinned Burmese man, wearing a patterned sarong, adorned with jewelry, and a headscarf like the characters she’d seen on television or the villagers in documentaries. But the man before her had light rust-colored eyes, thick, long eyebrows arching above sharp features, and a high, slightly upturned nose, making him look like an Arabian prince. Oh… just as she’d been playfully thinking, he was wearing a sarong. But besides the sarong, he wasn’t wearing anything else. His upper body was covered in sweat, as if he’d just finished a strenuous workout. Hmm… maybe handsome men in Yangon like to wear sarongs to the gym? Kittikarn thought dreamily, gazing at him so engrossed that she forgot herself, until the man approached and frowned, staring back at her.
“Mingalaba, Ms. Kittikarn.”

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