Flightless Birds
an excerpt

I would watch Evie as she would talk to me. I would watch her eyes flit around, catching little light beams and contracting. Watch her blink and her pupils dilate. Beautiful green orbs, green like celery and summer leaves would capture her pupils in light. Long dark eyelashes would cover over them gradually, like little ferns fanning her eyes, lavishly. With every movement of her eyes, her pupils changed shape, growing smaller and larger, and then a blink, then would stare into my eyes. Her eyes connected me to another world. Every once in a while I would become hyper aware that she was staring at me, yes, me, not another person.
I was right there in front of her eyes, and she was talking to me, because she wanted to. There was a pair of beautiful eyes connected with my own, and that made me love to watch them as they blinked and moved. I wanted to absorb every detail- pools of tears above her eyelids after laughing, the creases on the bridge of her nose that appear with a smile, the movement of her eyebrows with emotion. And I wanted to know that emotion. Take it as my own and hold it very dear. I think I wanted to comfort someone’s emotions so that I could comfort my own. And as we talked her eyes would blink again, slowly. Look down, sheepishly. Then look around at the surroundings and look back at me. But I would keep my gaze on her eyes, not wanting to miss small things, being entranced by those eyes, being consumed by those eyes. And as they dilated I could sink deeper into them and as she moved away I would fall into a daze.