She looks into his eyes
Green. No, blue. Turquoise?
“Kiss me,” she says.
“You know I can’t.”
“You never will if you don’t try.”
“It doesn’t work that way anymore!”
He rolls over.
She pats his jellied limb.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She rolls to the mirror, sighs, rummages through the top drawer for her brown eyes. She pops out a blue one, tosses it into a glass of Efferdent, sticks a brown one into the socket. Then she does the same for her other eye. And for her other one.
He never could resist her brown eyes.