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Pretty Blue Eyes

“All I want is a little yes or no.” Cypher’s vexing voice heightened my anger.

“Look into his eyes.  Those big, pretty eyes.  And tell me yes …”


Shaking with grief, anger and frustration, frustration that I couldn’t rip the fucker’s heart out on the spot, I looked.

I had to agree he had pretty eyes, beautiful even.


Intense, expressive, beautiful brown eyes.  


They, unlike mine, had yet to be hardened by years of war and held on to their innocence. 


Amidst the confusion which clouded them I could see his unwavering trust and faith in me.  His immense sorrow and guilt at the loss of Morpheus and the other’s pointless deaths.

So desperately I wanted to run over, hold him, reassure him, tell him ever thing would be ok.

But I couldn’t, not now.  Would I ever?


It was then I saw it, burning in his eyes.

The same emotion I’d seen in the mirror daily, reflected in my eyes.

An emotion which I feared, yet craved.  An emotion that was growing, and had been since I first laid eyes on him.


My breath caught.

For those few seconds time stopped, nothing else mattered, as I was lost in his eyes.


Then he blinked.


“Or no?”


Barely audible I replied, “Yes.”


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