Word Count:330 even
Genre: Slice of life, descriptive exercise
She has her mother’s eyes, that peculiar shade of turquoise that only shows up in authentic Native jewelry, not the cheap fakes sold at the tourist traps. Her eyes are that wild shade, cut through with black and gold, surrounded by slightly bloodshot white like rose gold entwined with silver. At this time of night, they gleam with the sort of tiredness that sings of a day well-spent, productive and fun dancing together in an intricate waltz.
Her younger sister has their father’s eyes, the shade of strong coffee just kissed by cream. Her eyes glitter with the fierce intelligence both sisters inherited. They dance out her every emotion - snapping with anger and protectiveness, shining with tears of grief and worry, laughing with the mirth that makes her dimples pop, glowing with that special light that only shows when she gazes into the slate eyes of her beloved.
The older sister’s husband has eyes that are unique in their family. They’re the type of hazel that alters with his clothing, the lighting, or his mood. They cycle between shades of blue and green and brown, and even with her limited ability to see hues, she finds them strikingly beautiful and exotic. Currently they are sealed behind freckled eyelids, with woman-long lashes fanned across his high cheekbones, as he sleeps in preparation for an early busy day that will come with the dawn. She finds herself wanting to touch one of those cheekbones, and it is only the knowledge that the contact will disturb the beauty that stays her hand.
The night wraps itself round the duplex like a sable stole, and the sisters finish their work of preparing for the morning. A quick hug, whispered words of fraternal love, and warm bodies join two beds -- one upstairs and one down -- while two husbands sigh in their sleep as they sense they are no longer alone.
One, then another, light flickers out. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots a lullaby.