““So tell me about yourself,” I say, mentally rolling my eyes for sounding like an interviewer. “Where’d you grow up? What’s your favorite color? Biggest fear? All the basics.” He laughs, kicking at a cluster of broken flower petals on the ground. “I’d hardly put my biggest fear in the basics category.” “You know what I mean. I feel like I don’t know that much about you, in the broad scheme of things.” “Well, in the broad scheme,” he begins, “I grew up all over the world, my favorite color changes every day, and I’m terrified of green eyes.” I raise my brows and imagine my eyes shooting him with green laser beams. “That’s--” I stop myself from saying weird. “Why?” “It’s just this feeling I have.” “My eyes are sort of greenish,” I say through a nervous laugh. “Am I that scary?” He looks at me and we both slow to a stop. A Vespa shoots past, swirling our hair in the wind. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t blink, so I don’t either. I get the impression he’s trying to subliminally relay his answer to me. That I’m supposed to know what he’s thinking. I don’t.””
