The bus lurched to a halt and the flaps retracted.
Instinctively, she glanced up, only to be met by a stranger’s eyes. For a moment, they held each other; his mouth curved up into a slight smile and she reciprocated.
In that moment, a meeting, an acquaintance, a brief connection if you must, yet a moment that prompted neither to move. He broke away and she did too.
As the doors clamped back into position, he returned gaze in farewell and she allowed it to be so, a faint smile on her lips as the vehicle pulled her away.
Only one-eyed shots?
If you see both my eyes I will need to kill you. Mafia rules.
Don’t worry about that.
I would have died instantly from them.
This prose is surely not mine
And only a title will I give;
But those who know it know its depths
And the depths it shall redeem.
And when the shaves of pure light
Dance in her clear eyes,
I see my angel for the first time,
Know my purpose, feel my birth,
Hear, at first faintly, then distinctly,
The sweet strains of our union,
Our love heats up the cold universe,
And gives my tired, desperate hope a
Reason and season to be revealed,
We, purified by our kisses,
Are eternally healed.
– ‘Thomas More’ in “The Saint”
His eyes are
The windows to