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
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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