With the course of treatment Miss Chevalier had prescribed, the film that had settled over his eyes seemed to be growing thinner by the day. He hadn't gained his vision back yet, but he could discern the difference between light and dark in the room, and in the past few days he'd been able to make out the edges of things from vague shadows, though there was still no definition. It wouldn't let him get back to work with his hands, that much was certain, but it was enough that he felt comfortable getting up and walking around the room throughout the day. His shins had been collecting bruises here and there, but that was a price he was more than willing to pay to no longer feel stuck in the hospital bed.
He hadn't been expecting to see Miss Chevalier again, at least not after two full days passed without a visit from her. That was unfortunate, but entirely his fault, he thought. It had been too much to ask her to read his letters for him, and it had put her in an uncomfortable position — he didn't blame her for wanting to avoid stepping into that position once again. He was surprised, then, to hear her voice that morning.
"Oh, Miss Chevalier," he said, obviously surprised. He was standing at the window (to feel the sun on his face, not because his eyesight had improved enough to see anything beyond the glass), but turned towards the door when he heard her enter.
"Of course," he said with a nod, but then hesitated. Should he walk back to the bed? He'd always been seated when she looked at his eyes previously, so that seemed fitting, but he was afraid if she'd already started moving towards him he might run into her if he didn't see her shadow in time. On the other hand, he wasn't sure if she would even be able to get a good look at his eyes if he remained standing where he was — he didn't even know how tall she was.
"Uhm — just a moment," he said, casting a hand out in front of him and trying to find his way back to the bed. At least if she was walking towards him he'd knock into her with his hand instead of just bowling her over, he hoped.
He hadn't been expecting to see Miss Chevalier again, at least not after two full days passed without a visit from her. That was unfortunate, but entirely his fault, he thought. It had been too much to ask her to read his letters for him, and it had put her in an uncomfortable position — he didn't blame her for wanting to avoid stepping into that position once again. He was surprised, then, to hear her voice that morning.
"Oh, Miss Chevalier," he said, obviously surprised. He was standing at the window (to feel the sun on his face, not because his eyesight had improved enough to see anything beyond the glass), but turned towards the door when he heard her enter.
"Of course," he said with a nod, but then hesitated. Should he walk back to the bed? He'd always been seated when she looked at his eyes previously, so that seemed fitting, but he was afraid if she'd already started moving towards him he might run into her if he didn't see her shadow in time. On the other hand, he wasn't sure if she would even be able to get a good look at his eyes if he remained standing where he was — he didn't even know how tall she was.
"Uhm — just a moment," he said, casting a hand out in front of him and trying to find his way back to the bed. At least if she was walking towards him he'd knock into her with his hand instead of just bowling her over, he hoped.