Coffee

Sasha K. Lotnikee

United States

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Mind of the Blind

June 6, 2014

"Apples, peaches, pears, and grapes," I mutter under my breath. Bumpy little dots guide me everyday as I walk down the aisle. Closed eyes and stretched eyelids cover my unseeing eyes. Darkness and loneliness overwhelms me everyday, everywhere. Everyone stares at me like I'm a monster. Fearing that I will bite or kill them, that I will hurt them. Grasping the fruit basket, I walk past the whispering crowd. Holding up my chest, showing them I am proud. Inside, I am angry: I sacrificed myself to be like this. Jostled, teased at, bullied, shunned from society, all because I defended my friend. Kicked in the back, jabbed at both eyes, I had foolishly stood in front of my friend. "Let me at him," I thought. My act of love and defense lost me my eyes. Now I can't see what food I'm buying. Ocular surgery won't save me-I am doomed to stay like this all my life. Proudly, I walk to the frozen section without pausing. Quietly, I hear people shuffle their feet from me. Rather than frown, I smile. Smiling, glad to have saved a friend's life, even though it cost me my eyes. To tell the truth, I'm glad I'm blind. Unseeing, it shows my courage, my bravery, my sacrifice. Very slowly, I drag my hands across the braille for the ingredients for a fruit bar. Water, Apples, Peaches, Pears, and Grapes. Xanthan gum. Yes, I love being blind-there is more meaning to the words sacrifice now. Zealously, I rush toward the cashier, ready to pay for my fruit.


This story is composed of part fragments, part sentences. Will this qualify?


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