t minus 15 days / / he's the savior of her sanity, her of his reality

"exit."

hazel takes her bottom lip between her teeth, her voice shaky, unsure as cold fingers brush over protruding dots on the book upon her lap. braille is harder than it seems. with anxiety, against the book, her fingers continue to tap.

"yes!" henry pumps his fist in the air, guiding hazel's fingers to the next word on the page; they've become friends in the unlikeliest of places. not a day goes by that she doesn't see henry; not a day goes by that henry does not make her smile.

today is no different. hazel grins, but it falls when she decides to ask the question that has the power of breaking the hope he'd revived; the hope that somehow, through her unspeakable trauma, had survived.

"henry, are you sick?" hazel unknowingly kicks a pebble at her feet; a metal cane beside her on the sidewalk, and the book steady upon her lap, her fear is anything but discrete.

he chuckles and he shakes his head and he bumps his shoulder lightly against hers.

"actually, it says 'stairwell.'" when he sees her eyes are downcast and a frown conquers her lips, he sighs. "it took you a while to ask. i'm a volunteer here."

the dormant fire within the blinded girl ignites, and her fingers move on to the next word. she wants to fight the feeling, but knows she cannot, so she simply continues to read, the answers to endless questions 

unsought