Keep Your Corneas And Him
Language: en
To manipulate her childhood best friend into willing his corneas to me before his glioblastoma took him, my girlfriend moved him into our home. When we walked downtown, she held his hand. At dinner, she fed him off her fork. And I—the blind man—trailed two paces behind, my white cane clicking over concrete, stumbling into curbs and the judgment of strangers. The night I finally shattered and confronted her, she looked at me with cold exasperation. "Devon is dying, Jude. I'm swallowing my pride and playing the part just to secure his eyes for you. What is wrong with you?" "If you ever want…