The eyes flashed a dull grey. Except they didn't really flash anything. Because flashing implies energy. It carries with it the concept of action and motion. In this glance, they were entirely lacking. A better way to convey that would be thus: the eyes maintained a rigidly flat grey coloration. They did not focus. They did not move. They just were.
Minutes passed. Hours turned into days and days stretched into weeks. Nothing happened. Nothing changed. The eyes remained rigidly staring, connected to optic nerves not conducting electrical signals, tied to a brain devoid of thoughts, feelings, emotions. Empty. The eyes that became mirrors to the world, that never again shone or expressed but merely remained. Void.
Cold, unfeeling bitterness. Like the first frost of winter that immobilizes a blade of grass, it had caught those eyes and held them forever. No pain, no joy. All expression obliterated, every characteristic of personality cast aside and destroyed. Silent. In wait for the end. The end of the world. The end of eternity. Nothing left behind those eyes, merely the glassy fragments that once shone remained. To wait out time itself.
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