Drabble: And . . . Contact – by Erin M. Hartshorn

by specklit

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On time for my Tuesday 9:15, Sarah.

I never insert myself until after they’ve had time to get themselves ready for the day. I’m not a creeper; I just want to see life through others’ eyes.

Speaking of which, Sarah’s somewhere new. Posters of eyes, ads for colored contacts — an ophthalmologist’s office.

“Here, try these.”

My perspective shifts as her contacts come out. I’ve lost her.

It was always a matter of time; contacts, even those with embedded circuits, aren’t meant for long-term use.
Time to update my software, scan for new users. I need a new 9:15.

Author’s Note: Isn’t all fiction an attempt to see through someone else’s eyes?

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