His Eyes by Oksana Holoborodko

 The pungent smell of the coffee

stabbed my nose so much that I couldn’t even help myself but wake up. When I entered the kitchen, he was sitting on the table-top with the opened window beside him, smocking his morning cigarette. I hated it. And mostly I hated kissing him and feeling that taste, but I got used to it . The stare, a deep look with his glassy blue eyes, pulled me to him without even realizing. I go towards him and stand to the opposite, but he didn’t kiss me. The next 10 minutes, I was watching him exploring my face, as if he saw me for the first time in his life. We always did that. We often communicated out by starting at each other, two empaths knew when something was happening by the way the eyes act while you watch them. But that time those 10 minutes were not giving any signals. Peace. The only thing I could feel near him. The fact that I could feel a crazy storm in my head and a deep anxiety in my throat outside, but with him, with his look I could describe my state as if I cover my body and head with the softest blanket in the world and a melodic slow piano sound plays on. That stare could hug me without any physical interaction. He could convince me that everything is fine with the help of this most calmly eyes and small smirk raising his lip corner on the one side of his face, creating dimple on his cheek. That was his love language. He never realized how powerful his eyes were. And not even that magical part with calmness but the beauty. Magical eyes. This is the first thing that comes to mind while looking at him. He has a very expressive and focused, interested and calm look, but at the same time full of thoughts. And the colour.. I don’t even how to describe. It’s like glass and ice, but also the moon, and the transparent lake, and a drop of rain, and the sky after a downpour, and water that reflects the sky and.

“Oh! Your coffee!”, - he dropped some words from his mouth, and jumped off the table-top to give me that big green mug we handcrafted together on clay courses.

That this little remark seemed to kick me ​​out of the tornado of thoughts about him that swirled in my head. What was that? Maybe he is also a hypnotist?