It was different, the way the light caught her eyes.
Yesterday was the first time he had noticed her eyes were brown, the first time she let him close enough to see her eyes up close.
Today, as he gazed into her eyes, he realized they weren’t just brown, they were melted chocolate ice cream on a park bench. They were forest soil warm with sun and seedlings. They were warm and bright, the feeling of skin against skin and the completeness of knowing you were wanted.
It was different, he had never forgotten how to breathe before.