The year Arnst turned 35, a young widow moved into town, renting a room in Mrs. Steiner’s house on the corner of Arnst’s street. She had a daughter who possessed the same flowing red hair and stained glass eyes.

Their eyes were a peculiar color, neither blue nor brown nor green, but somewhere in between, with shards of color that glittered when they met the light.

The men in town were of course curious about the young widow with the stained glass eyes, and the women in town were of course suspicious of said woman, keeping their men behind locked doors and firmly shutting the window shades.

Arnst took no notice of the woman with the stained glass eyes, of course. Not at first, anyway.

One day while Arnst was walking home from the factory where he worked, he decided to take a different route. It happened to lead him by the house on the corner.

Walking down the street was a novel experience for him. You and I read the paper to find out about the world, but Arnst only had to walk down the street and inhale.