Those Green Eyes

She glanced back over her shoulder. Her green eyes appeared to glow in the sunlight sifting through the window. "I'll see you later, right?"

"Yeah. Um, does five sound good?"

She walked back to him. "Five sounds great."

He smiled, staring into those green eyes again. "All right. I'll see you then."

---

A man of about twenty-five years shuffled his way up to the top of a hill. In front of him stood a mass of people, all dressed in black, some stifling their faces with tissues, others were guiding family members with a firm hand.

God, if I had only known...

But he hadn't. He had been waiting patiently at that cheesy Italian restaurant on the corner of Wayne Street and 7th Avenue for two long hours, the alight candle on his table dwindling to an idle ember. After forty minutes passed, he called her on his cell phone, and left a simple message telling her to call him back as soon as possible.  Three martinis later, his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He rushed to answer, bracing himself for a stand-up. He imagined her vibrant green eyes glancing at another man from across the room.

He placed the phone against his ear, only to hear the sound of sniffles and cries on the other end. It was his date's mother, Tonya, calling to inform that her daughter had…

Squinting back up at the crowd, his eyes brimmed with tears. A minister began to speak, and their whispers were now to a tolerable medium.

He wished wholeheartedly to look into those green eyes once more, to see her staring back at him with such delight. But I know, he thought, a tear dropping to the ground, that's never going to happen. Not in a million years.