Prolonged Eye Contact Novels & Stories

Irene's eyes darted wildly, her pupils constricting as she struggled to maintain eye contact with everyone around her. The camera lenses zoomed in, capturing every micro-expression, every twitch of her facial muscles. Everyone leaned in; they could sense a scandal brewing. Whereas the host decided to do his best to liven the moment, his voice faltered as he spoke, "Uh, it seems we've had a, uh, unexpected... moment her—"

His eyes fixed intently on mine, unwavering, as if anchored by an unbreakable resolve. We were one step closer to getting the medicine needed for his wound but it was far from being over. He couldn't just stare at my face, he needed to take his time examining my entire body. That was not all, he must continue to look at me without averting his gaze for five minutes—no pause, no distraction, not even for a second.

She lifted her hand and signed theirs back. The gallery held them. The artwork on the walls, the particular quality of the light, two people standing in front of a canvas about the almost of meaning. Margot put her hand against Finn’s chest, over the sternum, palm flat, feeling the heartbeat there. Finn put their hand over hers. She looked up at their face. Finn looked at hers. This was eye contact in the specific sustained way of signed conversation, holding each other’s gaze as language, as connection, and now as something else as well, all three things at once.

I flopped down on the couch and pulled my legs up, sitting cross-legged. “First one,” he said, reading from the paper. “We have to maintain eye contact for two minutes without speaking.” “Please tell me you think this is as ridiculous as I do,” I said with a snort. “Amy is a professional,” he replied, shooting me a withering look. “I think if it were ridiculous, she wouldn’t have recommended it.” Fair enough. I pressed my lips together and decided to stop complaining. Sitting on the couch beside me, Dominic pulled out his phone and set a timer. He set the phone on the table, then tapped the start button. “Okay. Starting now.”