“Put on the glasses,” Kendra pleaded.
I knew what would happen, had heard others speak with wonder of the world made new. They could see it all, each blade of grass distinguished from the next, the flowers ablaze with color.
“I can’t.” It was a prayer for understanding she could not grant.
“Why don’t you want beauty?”
My calloused hand stroked her once-soft skin. “I see it every day, love, even now.”
“I won’t suffer anymore.” She donned her specs and left me behind.
Resigned, I surveyed the barren landscape and wondered why I’d been chosen to keep the Truth.
My entry for Tuesday Tales, hosted here