“His mood-ring eyes were neutral gray, summer clouds that threatened no rain.”
“His irises were pale with a dark ring, gray like his self-designed uniform…”
“(He) looked directly into his own eyes, as though his eyes were neutral territory, a no man’s land in a private war against narcissism.”
“He does, and his eyes shoot to mine, wide and gray, alive with wonder and joy. His lip part in disbelief. The word YES flashes on and off on the key ring. "Happy birthday", I whispered.”
“Although it wasn't raining anymore, the air was still heavy with water, and rain gutters were ringing all over Point Breeze.”
“I don’t look for faces in clouds, I look for clouds in faces. And the best place to look is at the face of my friend, Carl Cumulonimbus, who I nicknamed “Rain Factory,” because he’s always either in a dark and stormy mood, or crying heavily.”