“your eyes are a dead give away,” she said slowly. “when you’re happy they’re bright blue. as blue as the summer sky in, like, a perfect memory. a crystal clear, light-blue sky. you know the color. that kind of blue.”
i laughed and i’m sure i was blushing. i was uplifted. “oh yeah? and what about when i’m sad? then what kind of blue are they?”
she hesitated, looked down at her feet. “they’re not, actually.” she fixed her hair. her nervous tick. “they’re more like, grey. grey and cold. dark, actually.”
i was quiet. i’m sure i went pale.
“like i said. your eyes are a dead give away.”