I always wrote off your eyes. From stolen sideways glances across the room I saw them as plain dark brown, almost black, an outlier in the realm of the rest of your irresistible features.

But then we talked; our first real conversation in years. Words slid easily through by mouth, a sharp contrast from my usual reserved self. I couldn't tell if I couldn't stop smiling because you were, or vise versa.

That night, when I closed my eyes, all I could think about was yours. Up close they aren't black at all, they glow golden brown. And when you look at me, your stare holds and I wonder what you think of my eyes.