an all_unwritten prompt

***

She doesn't have my eyes, or my smile and any other physical similarities are purely coincidental. Yet it remains remarkable how many times people tell me that she looks exactly like me; exactly like her father. I once read that people do it to assure the father that he's indeed the parent of the child, to assure the poor fellow that his wife hasn't been fooling around on him. She has your eyes, they say it all the time, but it's not true. She's not biologically mine and I know that, but it doesn't matter because in my heart she's mine and in her heart I'm hers and that’s what counts. They're not my eyes, but I do like to think that I'm responsible for the twinkle in hers.