Mr Grey Eyes

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As I watched him shuffle in his seat, I could not help but wonder, what was bothering him so much. What made him so restless! Though he kept speaking to his friend in a relaxed manner, his expression told another story whenever he glanced at his mobile. It looked as though he was waiting for a call. A very special call.

Dressed in blue jeans and a plain white full sleeved but crumpled shirt, he looked like a guy just out with a friend in a coffee shop. His friend was telling him something, he was just hearing it out, not listening intently. He seemed somewhat composed at those times. Just when he moved his eyes on the silent phone, the tiny pretentious smile, the sparkle in his eyes,the color of his face vanished. A somber, a serious cloud covered his face.

Occasionally he got up from his seat as though sitting on it was hurting him. About six feet tall, a fair complexion, well toned arms and a thin set of lips, he was quite a sight. Nothing showed his anxiety except for those eyes, whose expression changed whenever he looked at his mobile. The grey eyes seemed to be deep like an ocean. Some mystery lay within them. They were like the clouds in the sky, on a thunderous night.

His long fingers kept moving up and down the cup of coffee set before him. Sitting across, in front of him, I was having my own share of glimpses  of him. He was in his late twenties, a handsomeness he radiated though it wasn’t fully the face. He was attracting all the female eyes, including mine. It was like our eyes were cameras of the paparazzi, taking snapshots of his and he like a celebrity wasn’t bothered. Surprisingly, those Grey eyes didn’t seem to acknowledge a single eye devouring him. They had a story of their own. What was it? What was the mystery of Mr. Grey Eyes? I kept wondering.

S.F.R.

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