"Your face is the moon."
"Huh?" I'm baffled. We've been sitting here in the front row of the movie theater for the past half-hour, after everybody else cleared out from watching the classic B-rated film. You work here; it's your night to close, so nobody minds.
I didn't expect anything to break the silence.
"Your face. It's really white, and it's round. Like the moon." You look sincere... but sincerely what?
"...Thanks?" Is that a compliment?
"You're welcome." Your face shows a calm satisfaction. I guess I read you right?
Another minute passes; I can feel a piece of stale popcorn underneath the heel of my tennis shoe. You pull something out of your pocket.
"GAHHhh!? What the-?" I blink and turn away from the beam of the flashlight shining in my face.
"Sorry. I just wanted to be sure." Your expression is apologetic, a little downward-tilting quirk at the corners of your eyes.
"Sure of what? Guh, that hurt." I wince and close my eyes, fingers kneading the lids. Little flashes of green and purple dance before me.
"I was making sure you are really there. It's like... okay, have you ever been driving down a country road at night?"
"Yeah?" We live in the nation's breadbasket. It's kinda' unavoidable. I blink rapidly until my vision clears. Your face goes still and vacant; you're thinking about the words to use, and it's visible.
"Well, sometimes you have stuff on your mind, and you know all those little critters are out there. 'Possums, skunks, raccoons, rabbits, stuff like that. There's coyotes, too, and people's cats that get loose. You know they're there, but you don't see them, and you don't want to hit anything."
"Yeah, deer are like that, too." I feel your arm around the back of my chair, but I lean away from it.
"Like what?" I debate making a run for the door; you're not making much sense tonight. Maybe somebody spiked the rootbeer.
"Oh, y'know... their eyes are the things that give them away, that prove they're there. They shine at you when it's dark. You kinda' forget they're really there until you see their eyes, but then they're in the headlights, and it's too late."
"What does this have to do with you shining a Mag-Lite on me?"
"Haven't you been listening?"
Your voice is suddenly sharp, and I jump a little.
"I'm trying! You're just talking so weird!"
"S-sorry- I guess what I'm trying to say is-"
Another beat passes.
"I'm glad you're really here."
"Thanks?" Another one of those almost-compliments?
"You're welcome. Your eyes are November."
There you go again, baffling me.
"They are, are they?"
"Yes. Cold and greyish-blue, like the sky in November, or ice that you can't walk on yet." You just look so serious. Even when I don't know what you mean, it feels like you're being profound. I lean back into your shoulder and sigh deeply. You smell good. I open my mouth to say something, but I don't know what stops me.
Finally I just whisper.
"I'm gonna' hate it when you move out."
You whisper with me.