The Blue Eyes
**The Blue Eyes**
Lena liked the café for its quiet predictability—familiar faces, muted conversations, and the hum of rain on the windows. It was her refuge, a place where no one expected anything of her.
That’s when she noticed him.
He sat by the window, ordinary in every way except for his eyes—blue, startlingly vivid, like they saw through her. When he glanced her way, Lena quickly looked down, her heart unexpectedly quickening. Moments later, she heard his voice.
“Is this seat taken?”
Startled, she stammered, “No, go ahead.”
He sat across from her, casual but assured. “I’m Michael,” he said, his gaze steady.
“Lena.”
Their conversation began awkwardly but quickly fell into an easy rhythm. They talked about books, the rain, nothing extraordinary—yet everything about it felt significant. His presence was magnetic, his words strangely familiar, as though they were picking up a thread they’d left unfinished.
---
Michael started appearing more often, each visit deepening their bond. He knew little details about her—how she always ordered her coffee black, how she twisted her ring when nervous. “You notice a lot,” Lena said one day, half-joking.
He smiled, almost apologetic. “I don’t mean to. It’s just... you feel familiar. Like I’ve known you before.”
Lena’s chest tightened. She felt it too—that inexplicable pull, as if their lives had crossed in ways neither could explain.
But she didn’t ask what he meant. Some feelings were too fragile to question.
---
Then one day, he disappeared.
Lena waited, watching the door every afternoon, her heart sinking when he didn’t come. She texted him, but there was no reply. Days turned into weeks. She went to the café out of habit, but the empty chair across from her was impossible to ignore.
He was gone.
Sitting by the window one rainy evening, she let the memory settle in her chest like a bittersweet ache.
★★★★★7.4
