When she looked at him, his pupils dilated.
As if his eyes were opening up a path for her, a hole to fall down, a void to be swallowed in.
As if he was inviting her inside, opening the door to whatever was in him.
And she grew curious to see whatever furniture he kept, what objects he kept above the fireplace, to see the colour of his wallpaper, the dust on his shelves.
But he had already shown her all there was to see.
Those wide, dark holes.
