Blind Reader Wanted

by Georgia Le Carre

“Thank you for meeting with me.” “You’re … you’re not going to read today?” I smiled. “You seem to be rather distracted and angry about something today. If you still want me to read to you, pick me up from the library on Friday.” Instinctively, I sensed his confusion. “Have I upset you? I don’t get too many visitors so I’m a bit rough around the edges, but I mean you no harm,” he explained. “You’ve not upset me, Mr. Carson. I’m looking forward to Friday.” I took a step in the direction of the door, and he scrambled to get there before I did so he could open it for me. What a surprise – there was a gentleman underneath all that bluster and bluff. I paused at the threshold. “You will let me look at you some day, won’t you?” “What?” “With my hands.” The idea intoxicated me. The pull from his body was so powerful the tiny hairs on my hands stood to attention. “I have scars,” he muttered. “I know,” I whispered. “Scars are not ugly to me. They are just shapes.” “Uh.” “So will you? Let me see you.” “Yes,” his voice was husky.