”She bumps her shoulder into mine. “I don’t doubt it. But this isn’t a literature class with a persnickety professor, dude. What’s the first...thing that pops into your head?”“I don’t know… stories I guess? Daydreaming?”“Stories?”“I mean visualizing stories. Brail does well enough. That’s not the issue. I can still read, just by touch instead of sight.”“And?”“But the longer you go without sight, the more you… forget. You try and remember what things look like. Forests. Lakes.” I nudge her this. To drag her into one of his old haunts was so very much his style.She turned back to the bar. The bartender kept smiling at her with that "so whatcha doing later" smile. His hair was pulled back into a pony tail despite the fact the man had began to lose his hair way too early in life. His shirt hung open showing a golden cross peaking out of the deep growth of chest hair. The cross made her smile. She wondered why men like him wear them. She was willing to bet that he hasn't been to church in. More

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