Of course, lunch went well. Papa seemed to begrudgingly, perhaps be somewhat okay with Ryan. He was a boy. He would never, 'like' him, but this was pretty close. Ryan was a good one, but Lulu wasn't sure. It was still new and he was sweet. She felt comfortable with him, but she didn't feel like she had ever had a head-over-heels moment. Maybe it would come. Until then, she would continue to devote herself to Ryan, as he certainly deserved her best.

She wondered how it was when her parents met: Papa and... Her mother. She didn't know much about her and not for lack of questions: she wanted to know everything. But what she knew was disappointingly little. 

Her mother had been beautiful, at least to her father, and she guessed she must get her eyes from her. Papa's were an ocean turquoise, wise, kind, and at times, turbulent. Her own were amber. She thought they were a little eery as they were too orange to really be amber, but orange didn't exist. Not for eyes. Papa always described her eyes as honeyed sunbeams. He was poetic, and gross. Ryan called them pumpkins. Less poetic.

But that was all she had of her mother. She was otherwise the spitting image of her father. Blonde, slender, tall, with a slighter build and high cheekbones.

Sometimes she dreamed of her mother, but the dreams were never pleasant.

After lunch, her father left. His departure didn't sit well with her. He was right: something felt different this time. Foreboding. Like a predator waiting in tall grass. Or he was creeping her out with his own suspicions and would be perfectly fine. Either way, she closed herself into her room to continue work on her thesis. Ryan texted asking if she had meant that, "yes", her father had been coming and, "no", she was not available for dinner earlier, so Lulu sent:

;) <3

She had been planning to put time aside tonight to complete the next part of her thesis. But as she sat, pencil in hand, pages strewn across her modest desk, she found herself unable to follow a single train of thought. Maybe she should go out with Ryan. But if she did that every time she hit a roadblock, her thesis would not get past half a draft.

She dropped the pencil, getting up to pace. Her thoughts did not settle. Maybe she needed to rid her body of the anxious, worried energy she felt. 

Lulu closed her eyes, exhaling, then slid her foot across the floor, entering a stance, hands up, one near her face and the other at her hips. She shifted, switching her hands and taking a decisive step forward. As her body melted into a kata drilled into her since youth, she glided across the floor, her mind clearing. She struck, kicked and circled, poised and controlled.

As her mind drifted, her eyes shut, she gasped, tripping as suddenly, a sharp pair of orange eyes opened in her mind. Her heart rate sky-rocketed and she found herself in front of her mirror, her own eyes glowing.

She gasped, blinked and shook her head, peering intently into the slick glass. They weren't glowing. Just her mind playing tricks. But she couldn't shake this feeling.

She hugged herself, feeling suddenly cold, uncertain. She thought of her Papa, glancing at the clock. Would he have started his mission by now? Or was he preparing? She glanced at her phone, wanting to call him. To say what, she didn't know, maybe just to hear his voice. But she was rooted to the spot as her heart echoed.

She thought of the eyes she saw, orange like hers, but hostile. Hateful.

Angry.