I sat on my bed, running my fingers along the small bumps and ridges in my book. Images of red hearts and young girls falling down rabbit holes filled my mind, vivid illustrations swirling in my brain. I smiled, enjoying the genius work of Lewis Carol. That is, until I heard a knock on my window. Turning my head out of mere impulse, I carefully set the book down and stood up, walking the familiar way to the window. Opening it, I heard a familiar, cheerful, and mischievous voice fill my ears.
"Hey there, (Name)! What'cha doing?" I heard the winter spirit say, feeling cold air lightly breeze past me, sending signals that he had entered my bedroom. I closed the window.
"Nothing much, just reading," I smiled at the young spirit, making my way back to the bed.
"Reading? But aren't you...you know," He said, obviously feeling as though he should be sensitive about the subject. I laughed.
"Blind, Jack? Yes, I'm quite aware that I am, indeed. And yes, reading. But I read from a special kind of book," I reached down, feeling for the book. When my hands located it, I picked it up, holding it out as I sat down. "See?" He walked over, and a light pressure indicated he must be running his hands along the book, feeling the ridges in the same way I do.
"You read by...feeling these little bumps?" He asked, obviously intrigued. I giggled, nodding. "But how?" I could almost see the agape expression on what I imagined his face to look like. He sat next to me on the bed as I explained.
"Well, it was pretty easy, since I hadn't had the chance to read with my eyes before I went blind. So, essentially, learning how to read braille, which is what the bumpy ridges are called, was like learning how to read normally for me. My teacher at the visually impaired school I went to taught me how to read it, and as I grew older I advanced more and more like any other student," I explained, a small smile on my face as my hands lightly traced over the braille lettering. Jack gave out a slight "hm," sounding impressed.
"Wow, (Name), that sounds pretty cool," He said, a smile apparent in his voice. Smiling seemed to fit his personality.
"Could you hold still for a second?"
As I felt his movement halt, I slowly moved my hand upward, my fingertips connecting with what felt like his chin. My other hand, now knowing his location, also reached up, landing on the other side of his face. My hands slowly and gently moved across his icy skin, feeling every ounce of flesh on his head. My hands had made their way to his hair, which felt soft, silky, and almost a little wet, like snow put on someone's head to be used as hair.
"Could you explain what you look like?" I asked, continuing to attempt to create an image of him in my head. He explained, his words coming out in stammers every once in a while, telling me he was slightly embarrassed. As he spoke, an image collected in my brain. Cold, pale skin, bright blue eyes, pure white hair, dark eyebrows, and white teeth. He wore a blue hoodie which bore frost patterns on the cloth, which I felt for as well. He also wore tan, cut off pants, and left his pale feet bare. He also said he was around the physical age of 18. I now had an image in my brain, and boy did he look handsome. I smiled a little, removing my hands from him and setting them on my lap. "Sorry, I just wanted a good "look" at you," I said, making air quotes around the word "look," a small chuckle escaping my lips.
My face was flushed red as she finished and explained herself to me. I had wondered why she was doing that, but I wasn't going to stop a blind girl from trying to get a (literal) feel for her surroundings. I smiled as she neatly folded her hands in her lap. I looked at the book.
"Could you read to me?" I asked, setting my staff down on the bed next to me. She smiled.
And so she did until I rested my head against her shoulder, letting her smooth voice wash over me and lull me into a deep sleep.