Eyes-ish

Our writing professor told us to partner with someone we didn't know. I stood up and looked around only to sit back down in my seat and partner with the guy in the desk next to mine, who I hadn't yet talked to. He introduced himself. Responded when I asked about his family. Otherwise, he didn't seem very keen on speaking.

The next assignment was rather surprising and most likely put a little heat beneath our cheeks: we were to sit as close as we could to our partner without touching and stare into their eyes. Just stare. Until the professor called time.

What.

Yeah.

So we did it. And for what was probably two minutes, I found myself an inch away from my brand new acquaintance, staring into his eyes. (They were brown, and quite lovely, by the way.)

I tried to create a cool experience out of it--"It was an intense moment"; "It made me ponder about life"; "We fell in love"; ANYTHING--but it was pretty tough. At one point, out of habit, I glanced away, but then quickly snapped back into position. The seconds went on. I took to staring at my reflection in his glassy pupils; it was easier than actually looking at him. His eyes flicked back and forth, back and forth across mine.

It wasn't until after the timer sounded that I really thought about it.

Back and forth, back and forth, what was he seeing? What was he looking for? And did he find anything? Was there even anything there to find?

It is difficult to give ourselves to other people. Awkward, too. Sometimes as awkward as staring into their eyes from an inch away. But if we tried to look, to see people just a little bit more--and to let them see us--maybe we'd find something worthwhile.