A Path to Blindness

Part 1

A blazing sunset at the foot of dusk was all I could see. Looking past those great, rich green soldiers of many that towered up, surrounding and guarding my home. I took a deep breath to enjoy the moment. The sun shone like nothing that had ever been seen. It was an unearthly light of fire and passion; yet not that of anger, but benevolence. It a creation sent by the gods for all of man to see.

The kettle from the kitchen screamed like a toddler, demanding my attention. I lifted my arms from the metal railing with all my strength. Lazily and slowly, they rose. The bottoms of my bare feet were exposed to the cold wood as I trod over it. At once, they tasted the warmth of the carpet back inside behind the thick glass sliding door. Pushing it open, I saw chimneys of steam flood out of the spout of the kettle, and rushed over to pacify it. The stream of water flowed in to the cup and blackened at the touch of the bitter coffee ground at the bottom. I pushed in a thin stick to stir it, pulling it out shortly after. The whirlpool inside dimly reflected the light of the world outside of it, though unfortunately that was not its fate. To see the world.

That said, it sparked a thought in my own mind. "I need to travel more." I murmured to myself.

I picked up the mug with the cups of my hand on one side and one curled around the handle. Precariously, it was carried over to my precious coffee table that sat by the grey armchair I owned. The table was layered in stains from hundreds of afternoons just like that one. It wasn't much, but it was mine - and it was on the decent side of '95's standards. I brushed aside the small bunch of white documents that would only have been important to me right before they were due. I sat comfortably down in the chair and, from the resting place of a thick book, grabbed the block remote that belonged to the T.V.. My arm extended and my thumb hovered in anticipation over the button at the top, when - beep.

I flicked my attention to the source of the noise. It was my cell phone that had gone off, bearing a message from somebody unknown. Delicately, the remote was set down to be used later instead. The green light illuminated the humbly-coloured beige lamp shade above it. I reached for it and pulled it to my body. I held it in my palm, my fingers semi-curled up the sides like an overturned spider. It displayed only one line of words:

"Message alert (1): (775) 666 49."

"775... Is that even a place?" I questioned.

The number displayed to me alone spiked my suspicion. I felt instinctively uncomfortable by the situation and something was putting me off it. Yet, I pressed the button to open it up anyway. The screen flipped to the message, allowing me to view it. It read:

"Hello!

Idk if u remember me, but we went to skool together.

I would love to meet up, so how bu??

Msg me back plz!

-Mindy".

"Wha-" I uttered in confusion.

I scraped all memories for the name. Mindy? Went to school together? I couldn't bring any real answers. It was the 70s, there were probably fifty Mindy's that I went through school with, let alone my grade. Maybe it was a wrong number? Either way, I felt obliged to answer with at least something.

"Who is this?" I typed back out in response.

I held the phone still for a good half minute - but nothing. I thought I'd better leave it, and get back to my evening relaxing. I propped the phone down on the table beside me and reunited the remote in my hand, pressing the on-button this time. The screen flipped to life with a zip of light, presenting me with the weekly football.

That's right, it's Friday.

Seconds into watching, an identical beep tone came out of the phone I just put down. With my coffee on its swell way to my mouth, I reluctantly took it away and grabbed the phone to see what it said.

"I told u, silly!

I'm an old friend.

Wanna catch up together?"

"Um..." I sat there in thought, mostly darkness surrounding me save the one kitchen bulb I left on and the lime coloured light from the phone stroking my face.

"Are you sure this isn't a wrong number? I don't know you." I typed back as another response.

I decided to mute my television and keep the phone in my hand this time. Within another short wait, the phone beeped with excitement again. Click - it opened.

"Nope!

If it helps, I wuz the shy girl who sat in the corner of every class.

I did every subject u did.

So, what do u say?"

Silence cloaked my living room. I was alone with my own breathing, and maybe a small crackle from the T.V. every so often. I stared hard at this last message. Not to read it - in fact, the words were nothing but written nonsense anyway - but to think.

But then it hit me.

Of course. That Mindy. The timid girl who never made a squeak, did her homework, and did her best to get by. From very blurred and forgotten memory, like viewing a video tape in a dream, she never failed to appear at school with her dark brown hair in two large pigtails on the side, always with the same white scrunchies. She didn't variate her wardrobe very much either. About 10 outfit combinations for the term, then we'd have a break, then we'd come back and it would start over. She also had thick, square-frame glasses she would wear all the time.

I started to feel a little bad. I remembered she was picked on hugely, and while I never took part in it or said anything about it, it did amuse me a little. We were 80s kids, though. We liked a good laugh. The world was also different - it wasn't particularly any one person's fault that it was the way it was.

I moved past the thought, and grasped the phone tightly and readjusted my hold on it from it beginning to slip after I broke from conscious thought. Staring at the digital screen, I thought long and hard about what to say. Do I just... accept? Do I not? What's the right thing to do, and what isn't? Was I overthinking it? Possibly, I concluded.

"I dnt really know. When were you planning to meet?" I thought it was an okay response. I didn't think about it much, when I got a reply message already:

"2morrow??"

Tomorrow!? I was taken aback by the suddenness of it. Surprised, I dropped the phone in my lap and sat, a little frantic. I searched for a calendar and thought about all the things I could've had going on over the weekend. Then I released my grip from my hair.

I replied: "I guess thats ok"

"Coool! I'll see u then ;)"

I supposed that was the end of it. What just happened to me? It was an old school-mate, just meeting her wouldn't harm anybody. It was a good chance to see how she was going too. The situation called for interesting outcomes, so I didn't keep the worry with me.

I returned the phone to its original spot on the book I hadn't picked up in months. I really did like reading, it was just too bad I was barely able to. Work was a surprising thing - it could catch up to somebody like a shark would its fleeing prey. I scratched my head and returned to watching T.V..

I pressed the button and the sound was resurrected.

"Oh! Nineteen, Dawson, almost has it...!" It screamed with enthusiasm.

I never took any interest in football, or any sport for that matter. I didn't dislike it however, so watching it didn't bother me. I finally raised my mug that I had been holding the entire time, still full of coffee, and approached it for a sip. My lips contacted, and took in the delightful liquid - it was cold.

Damnit. Was it that long that I was sitting there? I wondered.