She Asks Me, What Color Are My Eyes?

Lying to myself first

She stares at me, her gaze a delicate flaying. She stares at me, searching my eyes for something. A guarantee of sincerity? A promise not to hurt her?

She volunteers nothing except that something is wrong, something somewhere is a half-step flat.

Is she asking or telling? She doesn’t know. Neither of us does. Neither one of us knows anything except that s…