"When the heart is down and the soul is heavy, the eyes can only speak the language of tears" – Ikechukwu Izuakor
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"This is Westerden–"
"Peanut, my dance recital is in two months! This problem still isn't going away!"
"Retina, that's like, sixty days! We still have ages."
"Sixty days is 1440 hours! 86400 minutes! That isn't a lot of minutes!"
"Merlin's underpants, how the hell did you do that?"
"There are these things called calculators, genius. You use them for math."
"You used a calculator just to prove your point?"
"Thanks, Captain Obvious!"
"You're welcome, Sergeant Sarcasm!"
"Indeed, Comrade Comeback!"
"Thank you, Senior Smartass!"
"Anytime, Dictator D-head."
"Anyway, I'm so proud of you, Retina-chan!"
"Stop trying to be Fletcher, dude."
"You haven't even met the guy, you can't judge!"
"Oh, I've heard the stories."
"You ever hear stories about me?"
"Oh yeah, like the time that you tried asking that one girl out? Didn't she dump a drink over your head and spray her perfume in your eyes, storming away?"
"Wait, what the heck? How did you know that?"
"Wait, that's actually true? I just made that up on the spot."
"Nope. I just like messing with ya."
"Oh, I hate you."
"The feeling is very mutual."
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...
