Her eyes were beautiful, the iris like amber. I generally don’t like to stare nor do I like people that do stare, but I couldn’t help myself. It was piercing. She was beautiful all around, but the eyes.
Part of me feels guilty for looking, because part of me wants to feel guilty for anything that might be construed as pleasure no matter how small. But another part of me says I had to look, I had to stare, I had to take as much of it in right then and there because I would never see these eyes again. You’d have stared too if you had seen them.
