Blind attention

October 5th, 2025 | 1 min read

Her head still follows light out of habit, though it means nothing now.

Sound and scent have taken its place — the bakery’s warm exhale, rain licking stone, bus doors sighing like tired lungs.
Her cane ticks a hesitant rhythm, tracing a world she’s learning by ear.

A stranger clamps her elbow. "I’ve got you", he says, steering.
Her cane taps metal, then nothing.
She stiffens. "Careful", she says. "It’s the other way".

He pauses, peers down — the hole yawns where his next step should’ve been.
His grip trembles, then slips away.

She smiles. "We’re both learning to see, I guess".