Bottle it Up

“I’m Mason,” he said. I nodded, and clicked the X in the corner of the computer screen so that it would go back to the home page. “And you?” he asked, and I looked at him, a questioning look on my face. “Your name,” he added, cocking his head to the side, “you do have one right?”

“Hazel.” He looked at me for a moment, and then he laughed, one of those deep laughs that could warm your heart. “What is it?” I asked, tugging on my shirt just incase it had ridden up, which the fabric had a tendency to do.

“Your eyes aren’t hazel,” he replied.

“Neither are yours,” I retorted and he rolled his eyes.

“But my name isn’t an eye color is it?” he asked. “Look,” he commanded, and I looked over to find him straining to keep his eyes comically wide. ”My eyes are green,” he announced, but he didn’t need to. They were a bit striking, and I noticed them the moment he walked in ...