When Sally first made eye contact with Dave, she looked deep into his pupil. It was the preferred method of the old fortune-teller. In an individual's eye, she could see beyond the material form of a person and into their immaterial existence. Past, present, and future were mirrored back and forth inside the eye until time ceased to matter and there was only soul. She stared and stared into Dave's pupil, searching his soul for cracks or creases, bringing her eye close to his. All sounds and smells from the world around her faded away. She was alone with Dave's soul.
"Your soul is withered, burnt up," she said.
That was all she could see in his pupil: blackness, crispy ashes, death. Dave had squandered away the only thing that was truly him. His life of lies and hatred had destroyed his soul.
Sally pulled away from Dave's eye. The room was empty. Dave had left hours earlier, dragged away by a companion. His optical nerve dangled against her skin as she rolled the eye around her palm, considering its shape and texture. Blood dripped from her long, gnarled fingers.
"Another dead eye," she said. Then she tossed the eyeball into the trash bin under the table. It landed among the other dead eyes Sally had taken that week.
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