Her smile and eyes appeared unchanged, so too her style and wear of hair and mascara blushing of her lashes—curl of their length and dark of their paint making stronger and more striking the bright and color of her eyes.
He felt, at sight, as he had when young and grown of age and life were but distant notions—possibility, ideal, and dream—and not the present they, to all in time, become; when in smalltown parlor on summer square where he ordered from her behind the counter, no different than rest of gathered crowd, for the treats of custard and her smile.
Looking on length of line in roadside wait—attraction and draw to small of stand—he knew little of this, too, was changed.
Beautiful spirits and simple pleasures still existed in the world. As her smile, eyes, and ageless spirit, such were gifts and treasures remembered at reminding of their sight.