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his eyes

My dad’s eyes are the lightest, reminding me of fields on a fall afternoon. A light brown with sparks of yellow, sparks of yellow that when you look you feel safe. My mom’s eyes are almost the darkest of all of us. So dark you can’t tell the pupil and the iris apart from each other, like dark chocolate cooling on a tray. But his eyes are different, they are so dark that when you look into them you can forget your train of thought. When he smiles his eyes get smaller and you can see the joy in the way he looks up and observes the world. He looks at everything with a positive attitude and doesn’t doubt anything until it does him wrong.




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