Her eyes were a different shade of green today, a soft green. The colour of autumn leaves just before they started turning brown. He had known her for three years, and there were no two days that she looked the same. Every day was a different form of beauty that was slotted irrepressibly into his memory.

Her eyes were a different shade of green today, a soft green. The colour of autumn leaves just before they started turning brown. He had known her for three years, and there were no two days that she looked the same. Every day was a different form of beauty that was slotted irrepressibly into his memory.

– Jacqueline Francis – The Journal –

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