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It was the first time we met; late morning, somewhere in town where they serve what is said to be the best piccolo latte.

An hour or more into a surprisingly easy conversation between two strangers who had only just met (who never would have met but for a half-hearted reply made at someone’s urging), where just-coffee turned into how-about-lunch-too, I made a comment about eyes, or something…. age makes recollections harder as more days pass and memories fade into wisps that you can only revisit in your fragile dreams.

He removed his small, round gold-rimmed glasses and rested his naked eyes on mine.

Taken aback, I looked down quickly, but not before I was momentarily blinded — the hapless deer in headlights. And so I fled, if only for those few seconds when I teetered on the edge.

Or I would surely have drowned and be lost forever.


“What physical features do you go for,” he had asked on another occasion as he was driving me home.

“Eyes,” I returned, not having to think about my answer, or to consider if he had meant other physical features — on the body, which was the case.

“Eyes….” he seemed puzzled. “Just eyes???”

“Eyes,” I repeated without a pause. “Because they are the windows to the soul.”

Written by The Intimate Stranger

March 24th, 2011 at 2:16 am

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