Purple Eyes
By Pata Hikari
The thing I remember about my mother the most? Her eyes.
I always loved her eyes, those beautiful amethyst eyes. They always shone with an inner light that everyone else just lacked.
Eh? That's just it. They really did seem to glow as far as I was concerned a soft violet light like in a rainbow.
Of course it does! But I don't care, it's my memory and that's what matters.
Everyone always tells me I look just like her, rather silly really, because we're two different people. Oh, here's a pictograph of her downstairs.
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Here we go! Isn't she beautiful? Huh? Not you too! I do not look like her! No, look, clear differences. She's taller, has longer hair, and is a lot more mature looking. To top it off our eyes are totally different.
OK, fine. I'll concede that some of the differences are just because she's older in the pictograph then I am now. But still, I do not have her eyes.
Ugg… are you clueless? It's obvious! Mine are boring, hers are interesting!
Well if you can't see it then it's obvious you're hopeless.
Oh, you really think that? OK, fine, you're on!
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What is it?
Oh, that. I remember that. You really went through with it? Well then, show me the Pictographs. I'll be able to tell the difference even if they're black and white!
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Give me a minute!
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That one is Mom, while that one is me.
What? Impossible!
…oh fine… perhaps you're right. Maybe me and Mom do look alike.