He sat and remembered her eyes again.

They met, or rather, their eyes met, as they scanned the dance hall looking for a partner.

The blind have a world of senses before them, enjoying life to the fullest despite the lack of eyesight.

But these future dance partners were not blind.

Their eyes met.

One set, dark brown, intricate patterns noticeable only at close range.

The other, golden rings encapsulating hazel, green and blue hues swirling toward the center of the orbs.

The eyes were like magnets, opposite poles tugging the bodies along.

“Do you know the Viennese waltz?”

“No, but I’m willing to try.”

They spun around the room like ice skaters, one-two-three, one-two-three, seconds turning into minutes, until they were out of breath.

At the end of the dance, they stopped and looked at each other.

The eyes were like magnets, opposite poles tugging the bodies along.

“Do you want to dance again?”

“Phew!  Give me a moment.”

The early autumn air, humid, full of the promise of winter but warm, produced a sheen on the dancers’ faces.

“It’s burning up in here.  Wanna take a walk?”

“Sure.  Let me grab my purse.”

At the door, their eyes met again.

The eyes were like magnets, opposite poles tugging the bodies along.

“Is there much to see in this part of town?”

“Not for a few blocks.”

“Then let’s go!”

Invigorated by the dancing, they raced each other from street corner to street corner, running past the warnings of “No Walking” signs, the roads nearly deserted.

They stopped in front of a convenience store.

“You know what?  I’m thirsty.”

“Me, too.”

At the door, their eyes met again.

The eyes were like magnets, opposite poles tugging the bodies along.

One purchased a bottle of water, the other a bottle of popular high-energy soda.

They walked a couple of blocks, not speaking, just looking at the sidewalk, then the building facades, then the occasional car passing by, then interesting items in trinket shops and finally, back to their eyes.

The eyes were like magnets, opposite poles tugging the bodies along.

They stopped in front of an apartment complex.

“I have a friend who lives here.  I wonder if she’s home.”

“Could be.  Why don’t you ring her?”

No answer.

At the door, their eyes met again.

The eyes were like magnets, opposite poles tugging the bodies along.

They leaned toward each other and kissed.

Their eyes met again.

The eyes were like magnets, opposite poles tugging the bodies along.

They kissed again.

“Should we go back and dance?”

“Sure.”

They took their time returning, memorising each other’s eye patterns because, in the moment, there is no tomorrow.