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“There are no eyes like those in the whole world, she thought. Eyes like glaciers, like cold northern afternoons. Lapis eyes, blue-sky blue. She hadn't known how much she loved them. And that face. She loved the frown. She loved the furrowed brow. She loved the one irritated eyebrow. She loved the total indifference, the moment one idea or another pushed her temporarily out of his thoughts. She loved it because she loved the sweetness, in the other moments, when he came back to her. The softening, when she came near.” — Margaret Stohl
There are no eyes like those in the whole world, she thought. Eyes like glaciers, like cold northern afternoons. Lapis eyes, blue-sky blue.
She hadn't known how much she loved them.
And that face.
She loved the frown. She loved the furrowed brow. She loved the one irritated eyebrow. She loved the total indifference, the moment one idea or another pushed her temporarily out of his thoughts. She loved it because she loved the sweetness, in the other moments, when he came back to her. The softening, when she came near.