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The Glasses

To everyone who wears glasses — have you ever imagined a day without them?

For a moment, I did today... just for a little while.

I lost my reading glasses, and suddenly, everything on the screen and books felt blurry and strange.
That got me wondering — if my glasses could talk, what would they say?

Here’s a short story inspired by that thought, from the glasses’ point of view.

The Glasses


I am not just any pair of glasses. I am her glasses.
 A lady and a teacher, a reader and a writer — all woven into one.
 When the school bell rings, I sit quietly on her desk, waiting for the pages to turn.
 When summer comes, and the classroom door closes, I become her closest companion,
 helping her dive into worlds of words, weaving stories in ink and imagination.

But one day, I disappeared.
 Not lost forever, just… misplaced.
 And suddenly, everything blurred.
 Letters danced on the page like distant stars,
 words morphed into shadows.
 She fumbled, searching — hands trembling —
 as if a part of her had gone missing along with me.

If I could speak, I’d whisper, I’m here. I’m always here.
 Yet she felt adrift, lost without the lens that makes her world clear.
 For a reader, a writer, I am more than glass and frame.
 I am the lens through which she sees herself.
 Without me, the words escape, the stories stall, the thoughts scatter.

She couldn’t imagine a day without me —
 the way I steady her sight, steady her hand.
 The way I catch the light when she’s writing by the window,
 or rest gently on her nose during quiet reading hours.

And when finally, I was found, nestled between the cushions —
 there was a small celebration in her eyes,
 a sigh of relief in the air.

Because sometimes, it’s the smallest things that hold us together,
 the simple things that let us see who we really are.

I am her glasses.
 And without me, she’s just a little lost.

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