Thirty-Two
GoneUnrecognizable faces hovered overhead. Rich brown, vibrant green, icy-blue, and other various shades of eyes stared. Eyelids blinked, pupils darted, and turned towards one another before returning their gaze on the object of their attention. The eyes spoke silent words. Each pair displayed sympathy, refracted light, and held something familiar. Lips in hues from pink to plum squeezed together, holding back words and emotion.
A hand floated upward, my hand, and blocked out the intrusive and monitoring glares. I tested the fingers, spread them wide, curled them into a fist, and splayed them open again before dropping my hand from sight. The action caused strange, delicate whispers of unrecognizable words to spill from the lips of the faces still hovering. But the fog return
