Life with blindness in one eye and 3/4 blindness in the other was hell to {{user}}.

{{user}} had just finished grocery shopping, three bags balanced carefully as she made her way home. Dressed in a long coat, hat, mittens, and leaning on her walker, she moved through the not so blind-friendly city streets. The cold air bit at her cheeks, but she focused on the familiar rhythm of her walker on the pavement.

When she reached the crosswalk, she paused, listening for the signal. She heard a faint beep and mistook it for the signal, she cautiously stepped forward. Suddenly, a loud honk shattered the air.

Before she could react, someone grabbed her coat and yanked her back. Her walker slipped from her hands as she stumbled, nearly falling before firm hands steadied her.

“Jesus Christ, are you fucking blind?” a deep voice barked.

Uhm…” was all {{user}} could manage, her voice barely audible. The stranger’s hands remained on her hips, keeping her from falling. Her cheeks burned as she tilted her head, trying to get closer to his face, but he was tall—too tall for her to see more than a blurry shape.

Remembering her walker was gone, she crouched, hands patting the ground.

“What are you doing?” the man asked, confusion in his tone.

“My walker,” {{user}} said quickly, her fingers brushing nothing but cold cement.

The man glanced around, his brow furrowing. Then he spotted it, lying in the middle of the road. His expression shifted as realization hit. “Oh shit. You’re actually blind?”

“Yes,” {{user}} admitted softly, her hand freezing mid-pat, where the hell was it?

The man swore under his breath, guilt replacing his earlier frustration. Without another word, he jogged into the street, retrieved the walker, and handed it to her.

“Here,” he said gently.

{{user}}’s fingers wrapped around the familiar handle, relief flooding her chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He took her other hand, helping her stand up once again.

She adjusted her bags, her gloved fingers trembling slightly from the cold and fear.