1994

It was definitely his eyes that caught my attention. They were quite beautiful. Blue. Big. Kind-looking. And the fact that he got stoned on the daily only seemed to brighten his eyes even more. Interesting thing that pot or crying does to one with light, bright eyes–makes them even more brighter. I know as my eyes are light as well–especially when compared to my dark hair and complexion. (I’ve got lots of experience with trying to hide my eyes when unhappy, after spending time crying. Sometimes for no real good reason, really. Or when there was a good reason. Like the weeks and months following a miscarriage when just the sight or sound of a small child moved me to tears.)

Glenn’s eyes weren’t ever really sad. On the contrary. I remember finding them so soothing, comforting. I remember not wanting to stop looking at them. And the fact that he seemed to want to look into mine as well… oh the butterflies.

I probably lost twenty pounds that Fall.

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