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One sudden horrific moment shifts the entire trajectory of Atlas and Errol's lives, handicapping both young men in ways they could never have expected. A sculptor without his sight, and a piani...
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I always loathed the rain. Or at least I used to.
Those thick grey clouds would fog up the sky, dimming bright rays of sunlight that felt like a warm kiss against my skin. The sun's warmth had always been my favourite, and probably why I loved the color yellow so much.
Now that I couldn't see those golden hues anymore, my perception of this spinning rock had shifted drastically. I no longer had my vision to foster opinions from. I could no longer rely on my sight, and subsequently, I had only ever learned to see with my eyes. Foolishly, most people do.
Now I had to learn to see with, well... everything else.
The crackling sound of thunder cut through the otherwise quiet studio. Light sounds of rain tapped against the old roof pannels of the building, reminding me of just how much I'd grown to love the rain.
"It sounds like it's really starting to come down." Errol spoke, reminding me that he was actually still here. For just a brief moment, the silence had made me forget. I felt the wet clay between my fingers as I began to mold an indented base.
"This building tends to echo the droplets, creating a much louder sound more profound than the storm outside." I replied, explaining the heavy pelts of water that had started to smack against the building.
Errol took a while to reply. When he did, it wasn't something I was expecting. It made me realize I was going to need to stop with the expectations all together when it came to this man.
"You're like Daredevil." He said randomly.
Those intrusive thoughts must've won, I thought to myself.
"No, it's not like- well it kinda.... wait- no it really isn't like that." I practically tumbled over my words. I did not have a ready made response to that one. No one had every outwardly voiced the similarities between myself and Daredevil before.
"Do you pick up on things that no one else can?" He asked with a little too much excitement. Whatever Errol lacked in sensitivity training, he always made up for with audacity.
"It's nothing like a superpower. It's just the human body learning to adapt." I explained, completely perplexed by how we even got here. "As a way of survival, I think humans are well programmed to adapt."
The clay felt like mush against my fingertips. Errol had distracted me so greatly, I added too much water to my hands.
"How about music?" He continued, unwilling to shy away from a topic almost no one else would ever have the balls to press. The last person to ask me about my acute hearing was Atticus, and that was only because I always caught the sly shit he'd mutter under his breath. "Has that changed for you?" Errol continued.
I gave myself a moment to gather these scrambled thoughts, and when I did, I sort of understood this man's excitement now. I almost forgot he was a whole musician.
