“...did you know that in your eyes there are bright flecks of green and orange - and that they are lovely?...”

“He feels it, too. His eyes widen. A lovely hazel. Green with flecks of brown and gold. The colors I love. The colors of the earth.”

“I love your eyes, did you know that? I have never seen eyes as green as yours. They put the leaves of the Amazon Forest to shame. And your unbelievably long and dark lashes make them even more startling.”

“The sky is purple, the flare of a match behind a cupped hand is gold; the liquor is green, bright green, made from a thousand herbs, made from altars. Those who know enough to drink Chartreuse at Mardi Gras are lucky, because the distilled essence of the town burns in their bellies. Chartreuse glows in the dark, and if you drink enough of it, your eyes will turn bright green.”

“Your favorite colour . . . it's green?""That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange.""Orange?" He seems unconvinced."Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once.""Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you."But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.”

“Do good though, will you?" She blinked brightly at the green girl. "If not for your parents or your grandmother, then for me?”