I can see her in the dark.
 
Not really, because I’ve never seen.
 
But I like to say so. I’ve got glasses thicker than fucking George Bush, and I can’t see a damn thing.
 
But I can hear her quiet, measured, breathing, and if I focus really hard, I can feel the slight vibration her body makes on my bed.
 
What a scandal it would be. The school librarian, out cold in some student’s dorm room.
 
It’s almost as good. Or so I’ve heard.
 
She’s out cold and I’m staring out the window of my room, or at least the direction I’m told it’s in.
 
It’s winter now. If I could see, I would see snow and dancing snowmen with magical hats.
 
I wonder what I’m going to do when I get out of here. Anyone got room for a blind schizo with an anti-feminist kick? Ha. Ha.
 
I think she deserves better. She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen—sorry, I forgot about that.
 
I mean, actually I can say that. I’ve seen her with my hands, every inch, and she is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. And kind, and witty, and earnest. She’s not a feminist at all.
 
 
When I get out of here, I’m going to do it right. I’m going to get the best job I can and make sure she doesn’t want for anything. She doesn’t deserve anything but that.
 
I guess if it’s a funny way to put it, she’s the only person who’s ever let me see. For real. Something, just as it is. No bullshit, no nothing. Just the way it is.
 
If I listen hard, I can hear the wind swirling outside my window, gusting and fighting the trees and shaking the twirling, dancing, snowflakes.
 
But it’s warm in here. With her. She’s quiet, and peaceful.
 
I don’t have to think about that just yet. It’s quiet in here, and peaceful.
 
I don’t have to look into the future just yet.