The love is blind

You walk home feeling like the weight of your guilt is suffocating you. Why did you let yourself do that? The flesh is weak… but Grace’s heart is fragile, and you know you’ve hurt her.

A week ago, you found yourself glancing at a woman in the park. It was just a look—she was striking, sure—but your heart belongs to Grace. Yet when you caught Grace watching, her eyes held a quiet pain, even as she forced a smile.

Now, pressing your forehead to the front door, you search for the right words to make this right. It was just a glance, but you know how deeply insecure Grace feels about her body. The hurt you may have caused her feels like a wound you can’t even begin to understand.

“Damn it! Stupid thing…”

The sharp cry makes you rush inside. In the kitchen, you find Grace kneeling on the floor, eyes red-rimmed, struggling to pick up pieces of a shattered cup.

“These… these things are so useless…”

Her prosthetic hands tremble, dropping the same shard again and again. You freeze, unsure of what to do. The last time you tried to help, she lashed out, angry that your assistance made her feel helpless.