Eyes

I saw her from the other side of the room. The sunlight was reflected off of her bright red hair. It shimmered and danced and she caught it, tied it up, and covered it with a hat. Her thin outline graced slowly over towards me. Her body flowed like water, with slow, fluid movements. Her thin, white face held two deepened and darkened eyes. Eyes blue like the sky on a fair spring day. Those eyes had seen such pain, such suffering. She extended a frail, sickly looking hand. A hand that had defended her one too many times. Cuts and scars dazzled her arms, making it hard to forget the past. She had an arrangement of chipped and cracked painted fingernails. On her hand, a ring glinted. A plain silver ring that had signified unholy matrimony. She sat before me. Her posture indicated that she was tired, yet the rate that she was breathing indicated that she was ready. Her breath had a hint of peppermint and cigarettes. She closed her eyes and smiled. The two azure orbs stared me down. I had to look away. The poor and tattered soul.
"Why is it you wear that ring? You're not married," I asked.
"I don't want any attention."
Her gentle fingertips grasped her coffee cup and trailed to her lips. They parted slightly and she looked away.
"I should go."
She got up and her knees buckled slightly. She reached down for her coat and revealed a bruise on her forearm. She walked over to the door. As I watched her leave I felt by soul crumble. She looked back at me, and again, I looked away.