I looked at myself in the mirror with something growing in my chest like fire on a stack of hay. It definitely wasn't vanity. Something close to disgust, but then again, I was all too familiar with that. This was foreign to me in a way I couldn't describe.
The streaks around my eyes were starting to fade, and panic rose in me.
Diffe hoc aspectu.
Diffe hoc aspectu.
Diffe hoc aspectu.
What could only be described as Vick's blood was still dripping from my hands. I leaned over to turn the water on with both of my palms, frowning as the sink handle got coated in dark liquid. I'd find a way to wash it off later.
"He's dead," something said weakly in my ear.
I shook my head and closed my eyes, letting the water run. "He's always been," I whispered to myself. "It's fine."
"You'll never see him again. You'll drive a knife through his heart, leave him in the yard to rot. Put him out of his misery. Now—"
My eyes snapped open and I glared at the mirror, cupping my hands until they overflowed and splashing water over my face and arms. Whatever whispers had been reaching my ears died out with a hiss.
"Grow up and leave us alone, boss," I snarled at my dripping reflection. The room fell silent.
I sighed and unscrewed the bottle to my right, tipping it into my palm. The last two 4-milligram tablets fell out. I peered into the bottle with one eye closed.
I took my estrogen and reminded myself to set up an appointment for a prescription refill.
—
One week later I went for a walk in the park.
I got a few "hi"s on the way. Some awkward stares. One particularly bold soul stopped me in front of a biotech building they were exiting, pointed under their right eye and asked me if I was "practicing." I laughed after a moment and told them that somebody painted the marks on as a joke, and I still hadn't been able to get them off. Walking away, I felt a strange sense of dread in the pit of my stomach that I couldn't shake.
Why?! There's not much more that could go wrong from here.
But you're walking straight to the realm's entrance. Something's going to attack you, just wait.
I clenched my teeth, gripped the hem of my sweater and the folded piece of paper in my hand. I just needed to find the path with the fake benches. Whatever illusionist, or hologram, or shapeshifter that had helped Jack trick me the first time we came here...
I followed the main forest path to that area, at least, to the best of my memory. Nobody else was here. As usual. I wondered if I was the only one who could see it, or if those illusions had been crafted specifically for me.
I looked past one cluster of trees I was sure didn't exist and spotted what looked to be a giant, rottweiler-sized spider. Though startled, I knew better than to question it by now.
They really like just waltzing around this part of the park, don't they?
I cleared my throat and the thing jumped, turning inside out with a pop into a stout little man with glowing red eyes. I wondered if that was his aura; red. The sudden bright color was jarring to me. He stared, bristling, teeth bared and with indescribable fear in the space around his eyes. I lowered myself to a crouch and edged towards him little by little, hands raised in surrender.
"Hey. It's fine. I'm not gonna hurt you." I decided to try my luck, figuring that if I got incinerated for mentioning this, at least I didn't have much more to lose in the first place. "You're Vick's...partner, right?"
The demon's face fell. After a few seconds, he nodded with a whimper. It sounded like he had two voices layered on top of each other. I held out the piece of paper as the dust settled.
"Can you give this to Nyx for me? Or Lucy, or Edith, whoever's in there that knows who I am." I shook the paper a bit when he didn't move, and he shifted back with a hiss. I sighed.
"It has to do with them, if you're wondering. Vickson. Can you just...do this one little thing? It'll be a thank you, from me to them."
The demon glowered, black tears beading up in his eyes. He croaked after a while, "Vickson...dead. No point. Highest will..."
"He won't find out. If he does, he won't do anything about it. I promise—"
"Filthy human," it spat as I got too close. I frowned and backed up, holding up my hands.
"Hey. Let's not be mean. I just want Jack's mask back, he still hasn't woken up yet. And I don't think either of us can go back to the realm." I stood up and sighed, dropping the note at his feet. "Just...take this to anybody you know. Sorry to bother you while you're grieving."
As I turned away, something seemed to click in the little demon, and I heard a light fizzle behind me.
"Wait."
Its voice was clearer now. Still distorted, but it sounded like it had collected himself. I faced it again with my best attempt at a patient expression. Go on.
"Jack...Vickson...friends," it mustered, twiddling its thumbs nervously. I nodded with furrowed eyebrows.
"Yeah. Friends."
It gave me a little nod of its own. It seemed as if it finally understood what I wanted. It stepped back and picked my note up from the ground, fiddling with its folded corners. I doubted it even knew how to read human languages.
"Jack—Nyx, mail mask. Bring it back. We'll help you."
"Thanks, little guy. Uh, what's your name?"
The demon tilted his head. "Name?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but quickly realized.
He doesn't have one. He really was just a pet, something to be toured around.
I sighed as I looked him up and down, the memory of Vickson still fresh and bittersweet in my mind. Well. We can't all die saints, I suppose.
"I'll just call you..." I pursed my lips in thought. "Bernie. Sound good, little guy?"
Be grateful. I could've gone with something much worse, like Vick Jr.
Bernie nodded, though I still wasn't entirely sure if he knew what I was talking about. I smiled anyway.
"Thanks. I hope they're nice to you, whoever you decide to give the note to."
—
Doctor Kaine said he was fine with my "methods," as long as he got the last say in what treatment was required. I bit my tongue and nodded, knowing that whatever he could do with his tools and medicine, I could probably handle in half the time.
I still had plans with Morgan on my mind today; a movie night with Sean, Darla, and Leigh, followed by a trip to the city next morning. I had less time off than I would've liked, but definitely more than the average nurse. So why not be thankful? You'd think I would've learned my lesson with that.
"The doctor should be here in about five minutes. Now, you said something about continual bruising?" I looked back up at the young boy and his mother with a feigned wince. "That can't feel too good. Do either of you think there might be something else causing it, or was it an isolated incident, or...?" I waved my pen around in a circle, prompting them for something—anything I could write down. I always filled out a set of forms for patients when Kaine wasn't there to (God knows how his tardy ass became a professional), so we could get a general overview and I at least felt useful. We'd gotten past all the standard questions for a checkup—preexisting health conditions, medication, finances, and so on.
"It's only been—"
The boy, Eric, piped up as his mother began to speak. "I'm sick. I need to talk to a doctor."
"Honey, please, don't change your story now. The very nice nurse can help—"
"S. Raffle," Eric said, squinting at my name tag. He hopped off his chair and sat on the floor, one knee up and pointing to it.
"Look, it's all black and blue." His little face was serious and stony, holding more weight than a child's face ever should. "I think you should look and see what's wrong."
He gave his mother a grave sideways glance, and I understood immediately. I bit at some dry skin on my lip and looked back up to her.
"Ma'am, would you mind if I spoke to your son? Alone?"
"Well, if there's something worth saying, I think I should be allowed to hear it."
I had no other choice than to be direct. I leaned down to Eric's level and spoke in a gentle voice.
"What do you think? Would you prefer it if your mom left the room for a minute?"
He nodded, slowly and subtly. His mother's face softened.
"Are you sure, sweetie?"
He looked at her and nodded again, no significant emotion present in his face. His mother pursed her lips, gave him a nod of her own, and patted him on the arm.
"Alright. Just tell me, Miss, when he's ready," she said, looking back up at me. I noticed a trace of anxiety in her features but didn't say anything. I smiled.
"Of course."
She exited the room, and without a second to waste Eric turned to me with his hands clenched into fists.
"I see a monster in my room. It's small, but I'm scared of it. It has these weird sideways eyes, it only shows up when it thinks I'm sleeping—"
"Woah, woah, slow down." I kneeled down to face him again with a sigh. "Eric, if you're seeing things in your room at night, I think you should tell your mother—"
"I did. She won't believe me. I've tried everything, I shooed it away, I told it to scram! You know, like those cowboys..." He drew up two finger guns and aimed them at various corners of the room. I narrowed my eyes. Maybe it was time to break the facade. I sat down in his mother's place and crossed my legs.
"You didn't just come here for some bruised knees, did you?"
"I got them myself. I got 'em on purpose, I mean. Mom won't listen to me. I saw it..." He gulped and played with his fingers. "It—I think it's a she. She has little claws and teeth and stuff. She keeps leaning over me to make herself look big. I know she's not really, though. And she keeps calling me 'little Jack,' I don't know what that means!"
I widened my eyes in understanding. "...and you said it has 'sideways eyes'?"
"Mhm. They blink weird, like a lizard or—"
"Did you happen to see this monster's clothes?"
I felt a twinge of guilt for interrupting him, but my curiosity had gotten the better of me. He tilted his head.
"Nah. Not really. I—I think she's a kid, maybe. Like me. But that's not important, I need to see a grown-up. Mom won't listen to me," he repeated, sounding even more scared than the first two times. "Doctors can fix anything. Help me fix the thing under my bed."
So I guess he didn't pick up on the fact that I'm not the doctor.
Better thank god he's not telling old Kaine about all this.
"...alright, Eric," I said slowly, leaning down in my chair with my hands folded. "I'll need you to keep a secret for me. Can you do that?"
He nodded, his hair flopping up and down. "Yeah. I'm good at that. One time I found a piece of hair on my dad's shirt and he told me to—"
"Okay, let's calm down here." I don't need to be fed anymore family secrets, for Christ's sake. "I think we've got something in common. I see monsters, too."
That shut him up pretty well. After a moment of strained silence, he whispered, "Really?"
I nodded. "I've seen some pretty bad ones. They have claws and spider legs and eyes in weird places. Some of them don't have eyes at all." I spoke softly, like I was narrating a nature documentary. I pursed my lips as I tried to relay this information in the least alarming way possible.
"They're territorial. Do you know what that means?"
"They don't like you messing with their stuff."
"That's right. And they don't like it when you get too close to them. Most of them, they're harmless, as long as you leave them alone. As long as you stay on your side of the block, you know?"
I tilted my head in thought.
"They're a little like bugs. You don't have to be afraid if you see one. Well, unless it approaches you first, then you might have a problem, but..."
I trailed off at the frightened look on his face, remembering with embarrassment that Lucy had been the one to seek him out.
But they're just a kid. They wouldn't hurt him. They think he's a "little Jack," whatever that means...
I bit the inside of my cheek and stood up. "Let's get your mother back in here," I said, the slightest bit of nervousness creeping into my voice. Before opening the door, I looked back to Eric and subconsciously tapped the name tag on my shirt.
"You're gonna be fine."
His mom walked in, the shade of her face just south of sickly pale. I folded my arms and said to her discreetly,
"We'll have to wait until Dr. Kaine gets here to know for sure, but if you ask me, it's not blood thinning that you need to be worried about."
"You say that like there's something else."
I bit my tongue. There is. But...
"Let me rephrase that. If nothing happens in another few weeks, then you shouldn't worry, period."
"S. Raffle, you said—"
I addressed Eric a bit more flippantly than I intended to. "Let's just see what the doctor says, okay?"
"But the monster—"
"It's one of the good ones, Eric. Bugs, remember?"
He stopped protesting, and I turned back to his mother with raised eyebrows. "Kids," I said plainly. She laughed and nodded, as if to say, right?
Eric's face fell with my tiny, causal betrayal; was everything I just told him a lie? Did I think he was crazy after all, or worse—imagining?
I spared him a sideways glance and smiled. A genuine one, at least, that was what I hoped came across. He seemed to gather just as much, and nodded with all the earnestness of a soldier. I can keep your secret, he said silently.
"Thank you, nurse," his mother said with a gracious smile.
Huh. "Nurse." A whole year had passed, and hearing that still made me feel all warm and mushy inside. Instead of soaking in that feeling like I usually would have, I turned to the kid and knelt so we were face-to-face.
"And, Eric...that monster isn't going to hurt you. They need a friend. Just don't promise them your body and soul in a ritualistic circle and you should be fine. Okay?"
Eric nodded. "Okay."
His mother, while obviously a tad confused, didn't let the smile leave her face.
The doctor arrived.
"Ah! Sorry I'm late, I hope Sawyer didn't bombard you too much with her...questions," Kaine said with a huff. He looked like he'd just returned from a grand journey over snow-dusted mountains, his coat ruffled, glasses askew over the nose. I snickered.
"Yeah, I hope I didn't, either. Then what are these forms for?" I shook my clipboard in the air, unintentionally meeting Eric's gaze again. He was staring in a triangle around the room, from his mother to me to the doctor and back. Dr. Kaine laughed.
"Again. Sorry. Sawyer, dear, could you keep filling those out while I check up on Eric?"
I held my breath for a moment at that word, "dear." Right. He's a middle-aged man.
"Sure."
I left the hospital that day hoping I'd said the right things.
"Doctors can fix anything," the kid told me. After the shit I'd been through, maybe this one could.
—
I got a new message on the bus back home.
"OH MY GOD SAWYER LOOK WHAT I FOUND."
Followed by an excessive string of smile, sparkle, injection needle and heart emojis. I fought back a snicker as I tapped out a response.
"Yup. About five years too late, but yes, you nerd."
"Don't bully me :( you know the last time I had a phone? 6 years ago. 6 YEARS."
"Okay, okay," I muttered to myself. I typed back to him, "I'm very happy for you" and shut my phone off for the rest of the trip. I needed to clear my head a bit; simply texting somebody was enough to drain me right now.
The house was eerily quiet when I arrived there. Something didn't sit right with me; I couldn't even hear any breathing, or floorboards creaking from upstairs. Then again, he always knew how to shut up when I needed it least. I sighed and walked into the living room to put my things down, but ended up dropping everything because a certain someone had to swing down from the doorway's casing and scare me half to death.
I screamed and held up my hands to shield myself before letting my arms drop and glaring at him, his upside-down face centimeters from mine.
"Jack! You dick, stop doing that! What if I was holding something sharp, or breakable?"
"Oh, come on, I'd know if you were. Hey, what's the cast of characters like today? You get anymore old, racist ladies in your department?"
I ignored the question and gathered my messenger bag and books to gently place on a nearby chair, walking back to flick him on the nose.
"Ow."
"Who do you think you are, Spiderman? Get down from there before you break my doorframe, or the doorframe breaks you."
He stuck his tongue out at me. "Okay, boss."
"Regular boss or your boss?"
"Eh, who cares, both of 'em are bloodthirsty demons."
When I stared him down as a way of communicating get your feet on the floor right now or God help me, he gave me the old puppy dog eyes, thin tar about to leak onto the newly-cleaned floorboards.
"Without one kiss?" he said dramatically, reaching for my hand before realizing he was still hanging upside-down. He crashed down with a yelp, his spine stretching back out like an accordion. I winced and knelt down to check the damage, though it seemed the only thing that had been bruised was his pride. He blew a stray piece of hair away from his face as he lay there, glaring at the ceiling. I chuckled and circled around, tilting his head up and giving him a kiss.
"There. That's your one for today, since you asked so nicely."
"Can I use my one for tomorrow, too?"
"We'll see."
I hung up my overshirt and tied my hair back. I'd let it grow out a bit over the months, and it looked surprisingly nice. Only thing that pained me was the maintenance. Otherwise, we both loved the change. I started digging through the kitchen drawers while Jack followed me, curious.
"Hey, do you know where the lighter is?" I asked.
"What?"
"The lighter. Last Friday of the month, remember?"
Jack puffed up his cheeks in realization. "Oh. Uh, hell if I know, it's probably still upstairs."
I screwed up my face and nodded, praying that we didn't lose it before we had the chance to pay another of our monthly respects.
It wasn't lost, thankfully. We walked up to the attic, where it was all still set up, and lit the candles in a circle. I adjusted the tiny bottle of Vickson's blood I'd managed to save so it was centered, and rested my hands on the floor. Spots of dust marked the edge of the spell circle in place of sand—the only circumstances under which they were welcome in this house.
I muttered, "memento eorum" and broke the circle with pinched fingers.
"Hey."
The room fell silent for a good moment. I sighed.
"Don't know why I expected something back."
"Hey, Vick, it's us again." Jack took the reins when it became clear I didn't have much to say. "It's...it's been a while, hasn't it?"
"A month."
"Right. The usual. So, uh...hope things are going okay in the afterlife. Wherever you ended up. Maybe we've just been talking to thin air all this time, eh?" He nudged me in the arm in some attempt to lighten the mood. I didn't have the heart to tell him it was not working.
"Bernie's been doing good, in case you were wondering," I added. "Still not really sure if you care all that much, but..."
"Let's just pretend you do."
"Yeah."
Jack cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh. So...oh, hey, I've got one—tell me when boss finally gets sent down there, huh? Make it a game. Who can spot the all-powerful demonic god dead first?" He hesitated, then interlocked his fingers like he was still waiting on a response that would never come. "I mean...I know you hated him, too, right? That's one thing we got in common."
"Don't get me wrong, you were still a massive prick."
"Sawyer."
"Fine, fine."
Jack sighed. "It's okay. Y'kinda were, Vick. Gotta be honest."
We would have decided to blow out the candles on that note, if I hadn't placed a hand on Jack's arm as he moved forward to do the honors.
"Wait."
"Is everything okay?"
I didn't answer him, but pondered my own question a bit more. It was an empty one, sure, but I needed to get it out there. Just in case they were listening, somehow.
"If you can," I started, "I'm not trying to bother you, but...tell me what the afterlife's like? As one last favor." I swallowed down a sob, though where it had come from was beyond me.
"Thanks. Again."
Jack looked to me patiently, and when I didn't continue, snuffed out the candles one by one.
—
My heart thumped like a sad, slow drum against my ribs as I stared at Jack on the table where he'd made his home. Technically, he hadn't "made" it himself, but I didn't think about those things anymore.
He would wake up. I just had to give it some more time...
Time. What was it good for anymore, besides the breaks between classes, the breath I held along with my hope as I waited for something that would never come? Time was a nuisance. I would be wasting my life, waiting after graduation, waiting through jobs, through my 100th birthday for him to regain consciousness.
Maybe his boss was right. Maybe I'd be better off if...
I narrowed my eyes at Jack's motionless body and retired to my room.
Nyx's note still lay, folded, on my bedside table. I hadn't worked up the nerve to open it yet. Jack's mask had been enclosed, still in pieces, so I knew that little demon had at least sent my letter to the right person. This would be a distraction. A horrible, ineffective one, but a distraction nonetheless.
I sucked in a breath and unfolded the note.
"Hi, Sawyer.
"I'm sorry we haven't been able to see each other in so long. I know it's for the best, but you were a refreshing presence here. The Highest has barely given me any directions since...well, you know. I hope he's feeling alright. He may not have treated Jack the best (I might be risking my position here just by writing this letter, ha!) but in the end, he is my employer.
"Your little friend, Lucy, has been dropping by quite frequently. That other demon—Bernie, I believe his name was—as well. Did you give him that name? I have a feeling you did. It suits him well. But they've been disturbing my work, acting like I'm their mother, or a babysitter of some sort! Apparently, Lucy's several caretakers don't treat them very well at all. Can you believe that? And they're such a sweet little thing, too.
"Oh! Before I forget: enclosed you will find whatever I could gather of Jack's mask. I suppose you must know what happened to it. Give him my condolences when he wakes up; I know how attached he was to it, though I may never understand why.
"Love, Nyx."
God. Sweet as always. I let out a breathy laugh and set the letter down.
Something shifted in the other room.
My gaze snapped up and I jumped to my feet, blood rushing painfully to my head. Without a second to waste I ran out the door and turned a sharp corner to see Jack laying perfectly still again. I caught a glimpse of the destroyed mask on the floor as I knelt at the makeshift bed, remembering his half-conscious words from months ago with a chill:
"Please. You have to make sure no one sees me. Nobody can mourn me like this."
Christ, Jack. We're all already mourning you.
At least, I am.
"Jack," I said frantically, my voice becoming an odd and desperate hiss. This couldn't be it. He couldn't have just moved, just shifted in his sleep, then gone back to being practically dead. Besides being horribly inconvenient, it would mean I'd gotten my hopes up so high for nothing. It would mean I might have to give up my hopes.
And not to be dramatic, but I would rather have died than done that.
He moved again.
Then let out a soft groan in his sleep, like trying to wake from a nightmare.
I held his face, hands shaking, tears beading in my eyes. My head throbbed from the urge to cry, my heart stopped again and again with every twitch of his eyelids.
"Wake up," I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. "Please. Wake up."
He woke up.
His eyelids barely opened, but I could see it—the spark of life, the tiny wave of contentment that washed over him when he caught sight of my face. I must've looked sick, but I couldn't have cared less about that.
"Hi, Jack," I managed through choked sobs and laughs. He mustered a crooked smile and looked around the room.
"Hey," he murmured. His voice sounded awful. "Did...did I die?"
I leaned over, took one of his hands with both of mine, and let my forehead rest on his. "No. No, you're fine. You're alive."
"Are you sure? I'm not in heaven right now?" He let out a tiny cough before he could continue, and I rolled my eyes despite myself.
"You're not flirting right now, are you?"
"Of course not...beautiful..."
He's horrible at this.
I laughed and hugged him close anyway, hoping he wouldn't be able to feel the tears that stained my face. He lifted a weak hand and placed it on my back, claws dulled and fingers twitching with newly received life. I felt whole again. Complete.
I felt like as long as we stayed like this, nothing in the universe could tear us apart again.
"Sawyer," he said softly in my ear. I blinked back another waterfall of tears and turned my head to kiss under his jaw.
"Yeah?"
"Can I see you?"
No being with a heart could've resisted that voice. I lifted myself back up to look at him, and he frowned with heavy, narrowed eyelids.
"You look so tired." He seemed to stifle a yawn as he thought. "How long has it been? A year?"
"Nowhere near that. Maybe a month or so."
He reached up to touch my face, and I leaned into his hand. He sighed, content.
"I must've done a number on you, huh."
"Don't talk like that. I'm fine, you're fine, you were just..."
I tried my best not to start crying again, but it seemed to show a lot more than I would've liked. Jack shook his head and slowly, but surely, lifted himself to sit on the table with his elbows. I let out a sigh and pushed him down by the shoulders.
"Come on, Jack, don't. You could hurt yourself—"
The sly bastard grabbed my forearm and pulled me into a deep kiss. Not that he was being forceful, or was exerting any more energy than he had before. It just felt richer this time, more fragile, more like we really understood one another.
I cried and laughed at the same time halfway through, and we still didn't break it off. When we did, I immediately fell back into his arms, and we stayed in a hug for a solid five minutes.
"...hey," I muttered.
"Mm?" His voice was slightly muffled by my hair and sweater.
"Were you scared at all? When...when it was happening?"
I found myself burying my face in his shoulder and holding onto him tighter than ever before.
"Because I was. A lot."
I got the feeling Jack had wanted to tease me about that, but stopped himself when he realized how hurt I actually sounded. He sighed and shifted closer to me, a drop of cold tar rolling onto the side of my neck.
"Yeah. I was."
—
There was no more human disguise. No more Jack Nichols, redhead theatre major, which meant he couldn't join my friends and I for much of anything. So we had our own little movie night the next day, right when I got back from my unholy 12-hour shift. Jack had managed to gather every blanket in the house and dumped them all on the couch, like an excited ten-year-old preparing to build a fort. Though it was nearing summer, I wasn't about to complain.
"So, what'll it be...?" I struggled through a yawn as Jack held up a dusty DVD. West Side Story. As my eyes wandered across the classic title, I frowned.
"That one's a bit of a downer, isn't it?"
He shrugged. "Eh. We can just pause it before anybody dies and we'll be fine."
I nodded wisely as he popped the disk into the video player and collapsed on the couch next to me. "Just like in real life..."
Jack snickered and rested his head on my shoulder.
Somewhere, maybe halfway through the first act, he muttered to me like he didn't want any invisible person in the room to hear:
"Hey."
"Mhm?"
"I've seen you at work—"
I made an odd but quiet snorting sound. "Spying on me at my job? That's hardly polite."
"—and you're always so nice and cheerful with the people there. Patients, receptionists, coworkers...but you're always so mean to me." He lifted his head from my shoulder and gave me a playfully exaggerated pout. Oh, come on, now.
"Hey. Those people at the hospital, they get all the smiles and sunshine. I save my heart for you, at the end of every day."
Jack made a face. "What a cold, icky, bitter heart you must have, then."
I giggled and poked him in the cheekbone, much to his annoyance. "Good, then I know you won't try and eat it."
Tony kept at his hopeless romanticism in the background.
And suddenly I've found
How wonderful a sound can be!
Maria!
Say it loud and there's music playing
Say it soft and it's almost like praying...
I only saw the world in black and white since those so-called "angels" healed me. Auras are another story, though they happened so rarely that it hardly counts. There always remained a faded, pulsing vignette around my vision—some cruel reminder that this wasn't my real eyesight, that it was gone for good.
But just because I couldn't see directly didn't mean I couldn't feel. I felt Jack's love, the world's impatience. I felt clients' anxiety over a diagnosis, the relief when somebody is taken off medication or when a surgery goes well, the devastation out in the lobby when a receptionist runs someone through a particularly lengthy bill. I feel like if I suddenly could see again, for real, it would be blinding, as ironic as that sounds. So I see in black and white. Maybe a touch of blue sometimes, though I know exactly who to blame for that.
But even then, I see in black and blue, and I'm okay with it.
I'm okay.