Those eyes are the first thing you notice. They’re not black and yet not brown either. You’d probably think it’s a deep chocolate or something, but no, it’s not. It’s an indescribable color. The iris is ringed black while it grows brown towards the center ending with a deep black pupil. But it’s when the light hits that the show starts. Flecks of dark burnish gold shine through the deep brown. And the corners of those eyes crinkle as a wide smile that shows perfectly even teeth stretches from ear to ear.
Those eyes are a person by themselves. They change according to mood. When happy, they shine. They give out a glow, a soft warmth that floods you and makes you feel safe. When in sorrow, they grow light, like the tears that fill up have somehow washed away the dark stormy color. The whites of the eyes grow red and two tears escape and drop off bristly stubble at the end of the chin.
When angry, God help you. They turn the color of rain clouds, prophesying an impending storm of utter magnificence. The gold flecks disappear and the black rims grow engulfing the whole iris in a menacing black.
But when those eyes feel loved, they turn soft. The look those eyes give you, one of adoration, safety and a little bit of mischief, will have your heart jumping for joy. An infectious grin follows this look and it’s very catching. Those eyes have a life of their own. The gold flecks erupt into a dance and the brown melts into a soft shade.
Those wonderful eyes peek out from long, curly eyelashes that would have looked odd on anybody else. But under those bushy eyebrows and a crown of soft curly hair they sit perfectly framed by those impossibly long lashes.
All these form a face that I can pick out from a crowd at a railway station at 4pm on a weekday. That face has given me friendship, earned my trust and given me hope. And I count the days till I see that face again.
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