"The eyes are the windows to the Soul," she said.

She said she saw sadness in my eyes...I wondered  how she was able to read past my smiling image.  It was as if the photograph that she examined was too easily deciphered; not omitting the sense of emptiness that I was feeling upon its capture.
And my words, she read them like an autobiography that unearthed most secrets kept within my mind.  I wondered, "how else am I betraying my essence of mystery?"
She said there would be no way of countering this explanation; she said she had gotten a glimpse of my soul. And here I wondered why this stranger did not make me uncomfortable, nor did I feel the urge to hide behind the blanket of inexplicable vagueness that idles the mind to succumb to the acceptance of confusion.
She made me question it.
Now I stare at my eyes, waiting for a glimpse of my Soul to speak to me.