Blindless of Love

A boy was running along with one of the wide avenues of the city. They could all see how the sun was shining on him, for his face was red and he was drenched in sweat... And if they fixed their eyes, they could see that there were huge tears on his face, falling from the pair of honey orbs. He was running so fast and you could tell that every step was taken with enormous energy, thus ending up crashing into something. Or rather, against someone. A dull sound made only then the boy felt weightless on his body and he ended up sobbing on the cold asphalt. "I s**t on everyone." A voice beneath him silenced him for a few moments, but without stopping his eyes from shedding tears. He dreaded to see who had said such a curse into the air without any pity "f**k, get off you're not a tuberose stick." The honey-eyed one was offended to hear that, but the other person's swipes made his move to the side. "What the hell don't you watch where you're going or what?". He was more annoyed to hear how he was being treated, wiping away his tears in anger and pain as he shook out his varsity jacket. But when he looked at the foul-mouthed, ill-mannered fool he collided with, his blood froze and went to his feet. "A thousand pardons." As fast as he could he was trying to help the other "Excuse me, I didn't realize you..." Even swallowing saliva was difficult. "If you're looking for some politically correct way to say that, mmm I'm a blind man... Well, you can say you just threw a blind fucker." He swiped his hands in a frantic manner in front of the boy's eyes who now couldn't find where to poke himself. "I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to, I just..." He couldn't stop or control her crying, so he blurted out what was on her mind "I just found out my boyfriend was cheating on me with someone else." Still wearing a pair of huge sunglasses, the ill-mannered man had a possibly disgusted expression, but something told her that rather than because he was gay, it was because of the newly stated complaint. "How old are you?" A dry apprehension, as one of his hands, felt around to locate the cane he could notice and then hold out the cane to him, watching as the other continued to search. He mentally smacked himself for his stupidity. "I asked about your age brat." "I'm nineteen." Shakily he replied, bringing the cane more within reach of the other. "f**k. Besides being a faggot you're a brat for real. I don't even know why I'd be surprised." He almost spat those words at the other, who no doubt, could take even more offense. "I don't think I deserve those words. I apologize for my clumsiness and for throwing you to the ground, but nevertheless, I don't think you should insult me." Looking at the handled cane, he finally speaks "I have the cane in front of you." He then took it from her in a huff. "Child, stand aside. I want to get to my house the hell home." And in a further outburst, he hit him directly in the shin, causing the bodily pain, at times winning out over the emotional. "Are you an asshole or what?. "I'm sorry... I was about to move forward when your leg got in front of my cane. Don't you know that you should give way to blind people? That was said with malice, not kindness. "You're not blind at all. You're a blind, bitter old shit." He didn't say anything else. Again he ran off with more feeling than before coursing through his veins, with even hotter tears than before, and with a bleeding heart. The man who had remained static at the other's words, who certainly didn't seem in the mood to deal with any more of the accompanying misfortune, left him there - or so he assumed from the sound of his footsteps - in the middle of the street and pondering for a few minutes.   "But what nonsense." He gave a half-smile, finishing shaking out his clothes and reloading the cane for only a moment, picked it up, and continued on his way as he shook his head in refusal, thinking about his, not at all pleasant encounter. A door slammed in a small downtown apartment. He threw her backpack on a corner sofa, where a couple of pillows and a blanket were badly arranged from the night before, where he was doing some homework when Darien... That is, he ex-boyfriend called her to come to get him from his therapy the next day. He would have preferred to stay home and finish studying but now he neither remembered studying nor had a boyfriend. And the foul-mouthed one that afternoon... God, yes, he had been a complete jerk and he would keep it up until the end of his days. But... That didn't mean he wasn't aware that it was wrong how he had spoken to her even after she had thrown him away. How disappointed his parents would be now if they saw him. But his father was dead and his mother lived with his grandmother in another city, so it wasn't like anyone was going to say anything to him. His GPA gave him a pretty good scholarship but it could be affected if he didn't pass his exams... And all because of... There was no point in thinking anymore. He passed by and ended up on his bed, face between his pillows, and decided for one day to no longer make an effort to think about others and now concentrate only on himself. Even though the words he had said so rudely were now seeping into her consciousness. The following days at the University were heavy and suffocating, but more than because of the breakup, which hurt her immensely... Everything he had said to that man was still gnawing at her conscience. In reality, he had been completely thoughtless, because a bad love affair was nothing compared to blindness. And that was exactly what made his mind, not at its best. His teachers didn't question his friend Darien's absence from every project or scheduled work when they both handed in separately, but they certainly called his attention to the huge dark circles that had begun to form around his eyes, demanding that even though he didn't live with his mother, he should take care of his health and not go out in the evenings. If only they knew... And he wanted to know too. He was back on that little avenue where he had collided with the other man, remembering the moment almost as vividly. It was at least a week old, and he had finally decided to stand there waiting... He didn't even know what, but hey, he was a teenager, what could they expect? He sat down on the first bench he could find and just decided to just sit there, take out a notebook and try to sketch something. He started with faint scribbles of what he remembered of the man that day: He wore nice sunglasses with a gold frame and the glass though smoky didn't seem at all dark...TOO specific for a casual blind man. What if he had lied to her? He refused to believe it but, it was a possibility. What else did she remember? After her horrible words, it was difficult. Ah, he remembered he wore a coat with a very elegant embroidery... The horrible cane he hit her with also had a skeleton-shaped handle. Who the hell would have something like that made? And his hair, was it brown or even red? straight or curly? On the ground, it was hard to tell... And so he kept scribbling amidst anger and silent murmurs. He didn't know how long it took, but at last, he was interrupted by a soft whistle and realized that there was a baked potato stand, where the girl who was serving was looking at him with a huge smile. "Wow, I didn't think the bump would have let you pay attention that you bumped into a cute guy." "Excuse me?" "That's the best sketch I've ever seen of one of my best customers... But I'm sorry to tell you, it doesn't usually happen at this hour. It's too early." "I think..." Maybe that girl was mistaking him for someone but, something inside was asking him to be wrong. "A miracle! You're a lucky boy... Here he comes. Shut up if you want to see him." He didn't think anything of it, but when he looked at he, he almost choked. There he was... But accompanied by a mocha-colored Poodle. She remembered that day he had nothing but his cane. He got scared and got up with his backpack and hid a few meters away, before the girl's reproachful look.