Blue eyes. Everyone here has blue eyes. A woman in the corner has eyes the color of pale winter ice. The girl wrapped in her boyfriend's arms outside of the tiny cafe has blue eyes that look like the muted blue-gray of storm clouds. Her boyfriend looks at her adoringly with eyes that hold at least five different tones of the brightest blue I've ever seen. Little children skitter past me, and I make out in vivid detail, four sets of blue eyes.

I stand here on the old, worn sidewalk with my eyes downcast. My eyes are not blue, and they never will be. Where can I go to get away from them?

Nowhere.

They are everywhere.