“She has such beautiful eyes,” he says, cupping his hands tighter around his coffee mug. “I just never met anyone like her before.”


“What do you mean when you talk about her eyes?” I ask, flexing my fingers. It’s strange, the way the light moves along the creases of my knuckles. I fold them under the table.


“Well they’re so green. Like…Well…you’re the writer here.” He says, smiling into his coffee.


“A forest? A lunamoth or something?” I finish off the last of my coffee. It's cold and there’s something grainy left on my tounge.


“Yeah!” he says, looking out the window at something I can’t see. “Exactly like that! A lunamoth! Kind of a frosty green like that.”


“You know what else is green?” I ask, wiping the corner of my mouth with my sweater. His eyebrows raise expectantly. “The mold that grows on the bread you forgot about. The barf of someone who just ate a s***-load of guacamole. A hunk of snot dried on the back of your couch cushion.” I curl my legs up underneath me. “Those things are green, too.”


His eyes squint as if he were looking directly into the sun as it rose.


“If you think the girl is hot, If she’s got a nice ass or is willing to bend to her knees in a public restroom or something, just say that. The whole “beautiful eyes” thing is just stupid. Besides, most eyes aren’t that goddamn special. I only met one person in my entire life who had eyes that were actually all that nice to look at.”


“Well, what happened to him?”


“How do you know it was a dude?”


He shrugs.


“Well I never told him anyway,” I say, scraping a bit of dirt out from underneath my middle finger. I flick it under the table when he looks away. “Besides, it’s stupid.”