Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
The store's glass doors are shattered and the moment we step inside, my heart sinks. There are frames displayed on the wall, along with a broken mirror, but the frames have no lenses in them. Of course not. You have to have a prescription for glasses. Frustrated, I pick up the first pair and sigh, staring into the broken mirror at my reflection. The Jenny that looks back isn't the one I recognize from Before. I used to be this soft, delicate kid, my feelings easily hurt. This Jenny's tougher, with wild, wind-tossed hair and an expression that has seen some shit.
And right now, this Jenny is pissed she didn't think about the glasses before they flew here. I frown at my surroundings. I hate a wasted trip.
Do not be so sad. His fingers brush over my bare arm before he turns and gazes at our surroundings. There is nothing here we can use? I bet you can find something. His thoughts are full of affection. You always do.
Mmm, I guess so. I open the door to one of the back rooms and peer in. A filing cabinet, some old folders, an old computer monitor on a desk and no computer—probably scavenged. I flip open one file, just out of curiosity, and…there's a pair of glasses in the folder.
These are prescriptions that never got picked up.
"Mhal, come here," I call excitedly. I pull the glasses out of the plastic bag that's stapled to the file and then hold them out to him. "Put these on and tell me how things look."
He holds the folded glasses in his hand and frowns at me. Put on how?
Oh. Right. I unfold the arms, showing him how they work, and guide them up to his nose. They're an ugly pair with basketball cartoons on the rims—why??—but if they help his vision, it doesn't matter. "Well?" I ask him.
Mhal peers down his nose at me. This is supposed to help?
"Show me," I say, and grimace when the image he sends to my head is blurrier than ever. "Yeah, that's not good. Okay, take those off. Maybe we can find another pair."
The next drawer of the filing cabinet is chock full of glasses, so I pull out another pair of glasses and hold them out to him, and he puts them on and tests them before we move on to the next. It's kind of cozy and domestic with us like this, just a happy married—uh, mated—couple shopping for glasses together.
Are we? he asks, pushing a pair of huge bug-like frames up his nose and staring around him.
"Are we what?"
A happy mated couple? You have everything you want?
A mental image of something new flashes through his head. Of me, pregnant like Rachel was. Oh. It's something he wants. I pause, studying his face. "I never thought I'd have anyone," I admit. "Other than my dad. After he died, I thought it was just a matter of time before this world chewed me up and spit me out, too. That I'd be dead in another year or so. But with you…I think about the future. And I'm not entirely sure what it entails yet, but it fills me with hope."
Would it bother you if I said I wanted children? He takes off the oversized glasses and puts on a pair of black nerd glasses with square rims, and a look of surprise crosses his face. Oh. He stares at the wall nearest to us. There is a picture on it. Those are not just blobs.
I turn and look at the eye chart that he's staring at with fascination. "They're not just blobs, no. They're writing."
He reaches out and traces the large E on the chart. I did not realize my eyes were that bad. He frowns and turns to give me a skeptical look. You will not tell any other Queen's Guard of my flaw?
"Why would I?" I sit on the edge of the desk, pleased, as he moves around the room, staring at everything.
Humans are messy. Look at all the things cluttered into this place. He leans in and stares at an advertisement of a happy family, all wearing glasses. He stares at the picture, his gaze moving over the faces of the family. Do you want children? he asks bluntly. Even though I am flawed like this?
"First of all, you're not flawed," I point out. "Lots of humans have vision trouble. I won't tell anyone, and you don't have to wear the glasses around anyone else but me. And second of all…I don't know if I want children. Can I think on it for a day or two?"
Of course.
I watch him adjust the glasses on his face, amused and full of affection. "Funny how you're more upset about your 'flaw' of needing glasses than of bringing children into this mess of a world."