I’m eight when I first spot an electric blue eye peering at me through a hole in the garden fence.
Nine. I’m sat alone at my school desk when the chair beside me scrapes across the carpet. I look up into familiar blue eyes alight with mischief.
We’re thirteen, sitting shoulder to shoulder, getting scolded for skipping school. A side glance shows her bright blues wide with feigned innocence.
Eighteen, dancing close at our prom, those piercing blues send a jolt straight to my heart.
Twenty-two and she stands before me in her white dress, eyes a searing blue flame.