Her Eyes

Every city has an Oracle.
Every Oracle has a secret to hide.
The bartender with the bandage over her face told us some things should not be known.
“What color are your eyes?” asked Joe.
I elbowed him in the ribs. He laughed.
She put down the rag she was polishing the bar with and pointed to a jar on a shelf.
Blue. Her eyes had been blue.
“What color are they now?” Joe asked.
She sighed, reaching across the bar and putting her hand to Joe’s face.
“Whatever these are,” she said, and Joe screamed, his empty eyesockets bleeding.