The eyes tell me

—“Your eyes are blue,” I said to *****, the pretty young thing who runs my pharmacy.
“Yes,” she said; rather embarrassed.
We all were wearing face-masks, and I asked her to repeat why my prescription call-in yesterday bombed.
It was my stroke effect: mental lock up after her first sentence.
Her long speech allowed me to notice her eyes.
“My wife’s eyes were silver,” I said, trying to avoid perception as a lonely hot-to-trot widower.
“Stay safe,” she said, as I walked away.
Her pharmacy is in a supermarket, and I had shopping to do.
Finished, I wheeled my cart into the express lane. Not much; this store is pricey.
“How are you?” the clerk bubbled. She too wore a mask.
“How do I know you're smiling?” A passerby asked the clerk.
“The eyes tell me,” I said. “You're smiling under that mask; I can tell!”
Poor *****; she has to parry some lonely hot-to-trot widower who can't keep his mouth shut, who also happens to be one of her best customers.
“And your eyes are brown,” I said to the check-out girl. “We’re all wearing masks, so the eyes stand out.”

• Face-masks required by COVID-19.
• My wife died eight years ago.