"This," Sacha breathed, eyes wide with terror, "this is immoral."

“This is science,” I corrected.

“Oh, God,” she whined, looking up at the heavens, “What did I do to let you down?”

“Honey, you don’t need to look to God for disappointment when I’m standing right here.”

Sacha's pouted lower lip trembled as she continued her useless, pleading glance at the sky. I rolled my eyes as tears welled dramatically in Sacha's large eyes. Some people thought her eyes were beautiful - they'd drink in their expressiveness like a dying man. Add tears to the equation? Onlookers were sure to have their own eyes dampen as the dazzling hazel orbs glinted and glimmered.

“Galaxies…” they'd whisper. “The feeling of hope,” they'd cry. “You've been blessed!” they'd proclaim. Or, on one particularly notable occasion, “My faith has been restored! I'd strayed for far too long!”

My suggestion to utilise Sacha’s eyes to begin a cult, following this outburst, was harshly shot down. I still believed ‘Sclerae of Sacha’ was an excellent name for a cult. I was open to negotiating copyright payments with interested parties.

Sadly, I was not a mere onlooker. I had the unfortunate luck to have seen those stupid eyes...