"The Light at the Intersection" by Cristian Tamayo
In the morning, we met where her road became an intersection.
We stood beneath the scattered light seeping through the leaves of the trees that found us concealing, consumed by the white shrouding clouds of our breath against the cold summer air.
It was unusually early for us. The fog that drifted from the neighboring park was just beginning to clear. She came close, squinting and slightly tilting her head to the side.
All the light was in her eyes. “Do you see me?”
I could see her, radiating, beauty. I smiled, faintly.
“I like the way the light reflects from your eyes,” I said.
“It’s blinding,” she whispered.