Brown Eyes

The first and last thing that I noticed about him was his brown eyes.

The first time I met him his eyes sparkled. I’d never really cared much for brown eyes, but his were different. They were always the first thing you noticed.

There was only one time I didn’t like his eyes—and that was the last time I saw him. His eyes had been dull and dark.

He had always been full of life. I hated thinking of that last day. But what made it even worse was the fact that it was my fault. I was the reason that there was no more sparkle in his eyes. That his eyes weren’t that almost vibrant shade of brown.

“I wish we could’ve talked about this,” I whispered. I stared into his eyes as tears filled my own. “I still love you.”

It was silent as a tear slid down my face. I didn’t wipe it away, but continued to cry as my hands squeezed tighter. I shut my eyes as he let out a choked breath. I wished things could have turned out differently.

I let out a sob as I opened my eyes. I moved my face to his quickly, kissing him softly one more time.

As I pulled away, I loosened my grip from around his neck and looked into his now lifeless eyes. Dull and dark. I just stared for a moment before reaching out and gently moving his eyelids to cover his eyes.

It was over now.