Eyes on Fire by Lesley Whyte

He's beautiful. I've never seen anything like his face. Every line could have been carved like Michaelangelo. His skin is poreless but it glistens with something like sweat, only without the odour. He shines under their bright lights, but that isn't all. He shines, he glows. He always has. He's always been beautiful to me. The way his curls of light brown hair stick to his brow when he's hard at work. The way his hands shake sometimes, like he's afraid of what he's doing. They're shaking now. I smile. His eyes lock onto mine and they're on fire. Like we're alone together. Like I'm his everything, his last chance, his redemption. His everything.

And then they flick the switch. The chemicals start to bleed into him. The chemicals that will take away everything that makes him who he is. He closes his eyes, breaking our eye contact, destroying our last moment together. I don't blame him. This is almost as hard for him as it is for me.