"I worked hard to meet his eyes, even though they were the kind of pretty that's hard to look at." – John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
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"This is Westerden Optometrist, what are your symptoms?"
"Are you mocking me?"
"Mister Optometrist, my eyes are burning due to the fact that I've been listening to an idiot speak in such a snobby voice. Send help!"
"Your eyes are burning because you've been listening to me?"
"Yes."
"Do you even know how to logic? Or English?"
"Um duh, it's my first language!"
"God, I wouldn't like to see how bad you are at other languages, then."
"Why you gotta be so rude?"
"Don't you know I'm human too?"
"Why are we singing this? That song is so old now."
"Erm, you were the one who started singing."
"Hmph..."
"Why are you sighing?"
"How did you bring out this side of me?"
"Uh, what?"
"Look, I'm usually not... like this."
"You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that, Retina."
"Gosh, I'm popular, okay? As in, I don't randomly burst into song and banter like this. Peanut, what are you doing to me?"
"Uhh, I don't really know how to deal with this situation."
"I just– ugh, never mind."
"If you say so."
"..."
"How are your eyes?"
"Better."
"Wait, what? Then why did you call–"
"..."
"Oh man, she hung up."
YOU ARE READING
Eye Drops (#2)
Short Story"This is Westerden Optometrist. What are your symptoms?" "For starters, my eyesight has been super blurry and distorted, and this problem is starting to screw up seventeen-year-old life. Speaking of which, you sound kind of young for an optometrist...
