My gaze hooks on a lone person standing in the very back. A man. The crowd shrouds most of his body, only bits of his face peeking through the gaps between people’s heads. But what I do see has my hand stilling, mid-writ. His eyes. One so dark and bottomless, it feels like staring into a well. And the other, an ice blue so light, it’s nearly white, reminding me of a husky’s eyes. A scar slashes straight down through the discolored eye, as if it didn’t already demand attention.
