you were an angel and you would watch a certain human. A blind man. You would float beside him, while he followed his daily schedule. You would watch him paint and wonder how he did it without his sight.

His eyes remained closed as his paintbrush stroked the canvas. You knew he couldn’t see you, but it always felt like he could. Whenever he would momentarily open his eyes. He would stare directly into yours.

“Is someone there?” he’d ask with a tone of uncertainty, each and every time.