"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind." – Shakespeare
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"This is Westerden Opto–"
"Do you always sound like a snobby prick?"
"Only when I'm at work."
"I repeat, you're seventeen!"
"So are you, what's your point?"
"Look, aren't you meant to be at school? I thought you'd be one of those geeky guys who studied in the corner and got picked on."
"I don't do school."
"What, were you a high school dropout or something? Oh dear god, I wouldn't want a high school dropout to be poking around my eyes and peeling back my eyelids. You'd make me even more blind than–"
"I graduated high school when I was thirteen."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I graduated high school when–"
"I heard you the first time, you idiot!"
"Then why did you ask me to repeat it?"
"It's a figure of speech!"
"Figures, since the coherency of your spoken speech is rather limited."
"Are you being sassy? You are not allowed to be sassy, Peanut!"
"Why are you still calling me Peanut?"
"That's your permanent nickname now."
"Do you want to me fix your eyes or not?"
"Yes!"
"Then why are we arguing?"
"Because your dad is still in Italy!"
"How do you know?"
"Because you picked up the phone!"
"Oh."
YOU ARE READING
Eye Drops (#2)
Short Story"This is Westerden Optometrist. What are your symptoms?" "For starters, my eyesight has been super blurry and distorted, and this problem is starting to screw up seventeen-year-old life. Speaking of which, you sound kind of young for an optometrist...
