Gravy. That’s the first thing I think of when his image pops into my mind. Gravy. The swirl of colors in his eyes can’t amount to that gravy. Yum. They swirl and they swirl and they swirl into an endless, wondrous end. I could almost taste it. Gravy. The swish of milk-gray with a touch of white adds the perfect touch. When they move, they don’t move. They dance around, waiting for the light to shine on the pupils. But instead, my own eye catches it. The ice-blue ones. The ones that resemble a glacier so precisely, it would melt right under the sun. The blue meet the brown –no, gravy- and the world ends. My feet collapse under the weight of the pounds and pounds of gravy until my feet can’t take it anymore and I fall. He picks me up, but he doesn’t pick me up. His eyes do. Oh, those eyes! Those fantastic, but mysterious eyes! My breath catches, spooning in those eyes. I fall once again, but this time when I fell, I saw no more. No colors, no gutless horror of a childhood gone wrong. The only thing I did see was an endless pot full of gravy.
I guess you could say that was more of a poem, but with no verses or stanzas. My first FINISHED Fan Fic, and I’m pretty proud of it. Hope you enjoyed,