Time always had a funny way of going by too quickly.
The first time she ever caught his strange green eyes, she was standing too far away from him to even tell his eyes were green, and yet somehow in the back of her mind, she knew. Green eyes. Only ever green eyes.
He was just a pale, round face in the tower, then, as the sun was setting on September and she was lingering on the long, unpaved walk which stretched out from the tower to the horizon in one straight line. Maybe it went on forever. Maybe that one straight line was all there ever was.
He looked so lonely there, and so small. Diminished. Two points of startling green on a blanched plane of white.
She knew him in that moment, and yet, she didn’t. He held up on small while hand in a kind of half-wave, and she felt something catch in her throat.
She picked off a loose blue-bead bracelet and dropped it in the soft, trodden dust of the road.