Glass Sneakers

4th ♕

"Your voice?" Abram asked, completely puzzled.

I spelled out for old man, without letting blind dude hear, "B-l-i-n-d."

"Blind?" Abram echoed back, a little loudly.

"Shh!" I hushed him.

"Ahh, you're that girl." At least blind dude didn't seem to be offended.

"I can fill out the form for you," I offered him. "You know, just want to help. For the sake of humanity and all that."

"You really like coming to my rescue," he commented, sounding amused. Which was good. At least he wasn't angry at us for talking behind his back. Or in front. I was technically standing in front of him.

Whatever.

"The name," I asked, clicking the pen.

He paused.

"The form. I'm filling out the form, dude," I said to him. "So your name, please?"

"Okay, I guess you really are. It's Ar..." he paused.

I waited.

But he didn't continue what he was saying. And from the looks of it, he was clearly doing it on purpose. Annoyed, I slammed the pen to the desk. "I'm trying to be patient, but you're pushing it way too far. Are you kidding me or what?"

"You tend to get angry very easily," blind dude observed.

"George, you don't really want to talk to him like that," Abram said, lowering his voice like the way he did whenever he scolded me.

"I'm trying," I replied.

"I really mean it this time," old man said.

"I really understand," I answered. "I'm sorry about that bli—I mean, dude. So moving on, your name, please? Sir?"

"Arthur Luke," he replied.

I wrote it down. "Middle initial, sir?"

"D," he answered.

"Surname, sir?"

"Um, Cha..."

"Cha?" I clarified.

"Chase?"

"So Arthur Luke D. Chase, sir," I repeated, nodding my head. "What's your address, sir?"

"I live..." he paused again. The amusement on his faced hadn't faded away. I could almost see it reflected in his eyes if only he wasn't wearing his sunglasses. After a moment, he said, "It's next door."

"Next door, sir," I said, writing it down.

"You didn't write next door on my address, no?"

"I just did, sir," I said. "Phone number, sir?"

"Asking for my number already?"

"Gee... that's a really long phone number, sir," I said, still jotting what he had said. "I don't know if we can contact you with that number if we encounter a problem, sir."

"Get out, George. You're wasting the form." Old man grabbed the form from my hands.

"I... sir?"

"Get out of the room," he exclaimed. "I'm not playing any games here."

"I just..." I said. Maybe that was also childish of me. "Fine. Okay. I'm not helping. I'm sorry. He was really infuriating. You saw what he was doing, right?"