Stare Down

The man across from him held his gaze as if his life depended on it.

Eyes the color of the early morning sky on a cloudless day. Intense eyes, the type of eyes that draw people in.

The gun in the staring man's left hand looked heavy.

Cold and heavy.

He looked at the gun for less than a tenth of a second before his eyes again locked on the eyes of the man opposite him.

He tried to stare back with an equal amount of intensity but thought he was looking more foolish than intense. Foolish and scared.

He hefted the weight of the gun in his right hand and instead of the feeling of reassurance he was hoping for, he instead felt fear...dread, to be exact.

The man did not flinch, did not blink, did not waver. 

Just stared at him as if trying to burn a hole through his head with imaginary lasers coming from the early morning sky blue eyes.

For a moment he thought he saw the man grasp his weapon a little tighter, which made him draw his breath in sharply. 

He wanted to turn away, to look in some other direction, but he couldn't. 

The eyes were just too compelling.

Minutes passed in bunches. It felt like hours had passed since this stare down had begun. 

He wanted to turn his head to look at the clock but he didn't. He couldn't.

Suddenly he heard noises, a mix of sounds emanating from somewhere outside the room.

Then the door was opened and the noises stopped abruptly. It was a few long seconds before a voice called out:

"Good god man, why are you holding a gun while staring so intensely into the mirror?"