Her lips are moving.
“I’m sorry?” I say, as I take off my headphones.
“I was just asking if it was alright if I sit here. That way you can keep some of your legroom and you won’t have to share with anybody else.”
“Oh, absolutely! I don’t mind in the slightest. I’m pretty tall, anyways; I’ll take any legroom I can get on the Metra.”
The older woman smiles as my music blares from my now-dangling headphones. The first thing I take in is her walking stick—it’s the kind the blind use to navigate streets and sidewalks with. I can’t help but glance from the stick to her face.
Is this rude? I don’t want to be rude.
I’m rude sometimes without trying to be. Compulsively so.
Fuck it, she can’t see me anyway.
I catch myself and puzzle over my last bit of inner monologue… She’s wearing glasses. Maybe she can see me.
Shit. Too late to turn away now, I guess.
Her eyes move searchingly as she smiles in my direction. I feel compelled to continue the conversation.
“So what do you have planned for this wonderful Saturday afternoon?”
“Oh, I’m headed into the city to see my kids. It’s the first time I’ll have seen the three of them together in years, and I’m quite excited about it.” She’s beaming. It’s contagious—I beam back.
“‘See?'” I laugh good-naturedly. “I think you meant ‘hear.’ Or maybe ‘be with.'”
Puzzlement flashes over her face, followed by an emotive sadness that only the blind could possibly evoke. Her lips are moving, but no sound is coming out. She turns away as I shrug and put my headphones on, watching the suburbs of my youth flash by around us.
–Story by Kurt Kamin
–Foreground photo by Manuel EstheimSports Shoes | Women’s Nike Air Jordan 1 trainers – Latest Releases , Ietp