It was a disorienting experience, making him acutely aware of his limitations, yet deep down, he yearned to reclaim the sense of security he had lost to darkness. One night, Natalie’s hand brushed his face in a rare moment of affection, and her voice softened as she whispered, “You’re looking right at me.”
His heart raced—he had been. His eyes had instinctively met hers, and for the first time, John wondered if she suspected that he could see again. “Uh… just muscle memory,” he stammered, quickly rolling onto his side, pretending to grope for his pillow.