God almighty, why did you give the man with the blackest soul the most heavenly eyes? They’re long, narrow, and light gray in color. Lighter than his skin. The gray almost looks silver, shot through with darker bands that radiate out from the pupil like a starburst. He turns those eyes on me, sparing a glance from the road. It feels like a spike driving into my chest. For just a second, I wish that I were beautiful, so he’d want to look at me the way I’m looking at him.
