GRAYSON.
“Grayson. Are you even listening to me?” My aunt snaps her fingers and I zone back in.
“I am”
“What did I say last?”
“Are you even listening to me?” I say, and she rolls her eyes. I stare into her blue eyes.
Searching for something I know isn’t there. I’ve always wondered why she wears blue
contact lenses. Her eyes are naturally grey. Like my grandfather’s, and I always thought it
was one of his best features. So it surprises me that she hates it so much, she’s always on
contact lenses.
That’s not what I’m not looking for though. Hurt. Pain. Any feeling at all. I end up short.
It’s like she’s an empty hole. No feeling, nothing. The closest she ever comes to feeling is
anger. That’s all. That’s it.
“I’m not joking around” She replies and I sigh.
“Just go on” I’d rather
