Short story - continue?

The doctors told me that my green eye was my own, and that my blue eye was somebody else's.

Not the entire eye, of course. Just the eye colour. The icy blue iris as pale as an arctic ocean.

Of course the green one was my own. It was the one I didn't like. It was a deep green, like a mucky forest in winter. I favoured my right eye more than my left, which turned out to be mine. Naturally.

On the transport home, I blinked my right furiously. It felt strange now: unfamiliar, the foreign sort of uncomfortableness you get when you find out you missed a spot shaving or when you broke only one fake fingernail. My mother must've noticed my discomfort, because she laughed.

"I remember when I found out my eye colour. It's weird at first. I remember I could hardly wait until I found your father. You'll get used to it, though. You excited?"

"Hardly."

In this society, it was hard to find matches. The population control kept it controlled so only one person could have one partner. It was destined; your soul mate, I suppose. When you are born, you are born with one eye colour of your own. The other was the eye colour of your soul mate. When you are 15, you are sent to the Medic Center, where they run some tests to see which one was your real eye, and which one was not.

It was genius, really, but it wasn't my sort of thing. I was one of those girls who simply wanted to become a doctor, stay single, and live a lonely life. But we had to... for the good of the country, apparently.

We arrived back at the house. My older brother Iggy jumped up from his seat on the couch with a larger-than-life grin on his face. "So, Rhyme, you gonna find your boyfriend?"

"Shut up, loser," I mumbled, but I couldn't help but smile as he trapped my head in his upper arm and rubbed the top of my hair. He shouldn't be the one teasing when he was so close to finding his own partner. His mocha eye glinted, apart from the deep aqua on the other. The aqua was his own.

"Language, Rhyme," my mother reminded as she walked into her sleeproom. Her eyes were both a shade of light purple. When you finally come into contact with your soul mate, your eyes revert back to your own. They were an unnatural shade of lavender, but it looked lovely with her pale hair and porcelain skin.

I wrenched my way out of Iggy's grip and stumbled into my own sleeproom. I wanted to collapse on my cot, but I rather sat myself in front of the small mirror in the corner of my room. My eyes ran over my jet black hair and pale skin; not beautiful like my mother, deathly like a vampire. The exotic sky against the dirty green.

It was a little foreboding, the fact that I would soon find the person I would spend the rest of my life with. What if I didn't like him, though? What if he snored, or bit his nails, or just wasn't attractive to me?

I would have to see, and until then, wait patiently.