Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Sliding her feet into comfortable and pretty black ballet flats, Abbey stepped out of the closet, turned to the right, and found herself back in front of the bathroom counter. If she could still see details, she knew she would be seeing her own reflection in the long mirror just behind the sink. But since she couldn’t, the only thing visible to her was the maroon blur of her blouse and the tannish blur of her face. There was a dark brown blur around the tan which she knew was her damp hair.
Reaching for the hairdryer, which was hung on a hook right beside the toothbrush holder on the wall, Abbey pulled it out and began to dry her hair. A few minutes later she returned it to its holster, opened the cabinet under the sink, and pulled out her makeup bag.
Putting on makeup wasn’t easy as a legally blind person, but it had been one thing Abbey was determined not to give up as she lost her vision. She had always loved makeup—it made her feel put-together and polished—and she refused to relinquish that feeling just because she was losing her sight.
Luckily, she had good skin and didn’t need very much of it. Working by touch, she rubbed a thin layer of concealer under her eyes and an even thinner layer of foundation over the rest of her face. She felt through her makeup brushes until she found the one with the puffiest and largest end and used it to apply powder.
The brush with the angled tip was for blush—Abbey spread a bit over her cheekbones, leaning far forward to see the pinkish blurs on either side of the tan blur that was her face. Again she felt grateful that she could still see colors.
Of course, the condition that had stolen her detailed vision might still decide to take the colors as well and leave her in a dull gray world, but she hoped that it wouldn’t. So far she’d been lucky—well, as lucky as she could be considering the circumstances. She chose to believe that her luck would hold and she would continue to see the colorful blurs that filled her field of vision.
“Always choose the positive over the negative,” Aunt Rose often told her. “Always choose hope.” And Abbey did.
Lip-liner and lipstick were the trickiest part. Using her fingers, Abbey followed the contours of her lips as she traced on a brownish-pink lip-liner. She then filled it in with a similar colored lipstick. The hardest part was the points of her upper lip—she had a mouth shaped like a Cupid’s bow—at least according to Aunt Rose. And of course it was impossible to see if she was getting it exactly right or not.
Back when she was sighted, Abbey would have finished her makeup routine with a spray of perfume on her pulse points. However, now that her sense of smell had gotten so acute, she found most of the fragrances she’d loved when she was younger were simply too strong. Even the deodorant she wore was unscented. Besides, she was going to be dealing with the strong scent of the flowers in the shop all day, so she didn’t wear any perfume.
Turning to the left, Abbey walked straight ahead. Leaving the bathroom behind, she counted twelve steps down the hallway until she came to the kitchen. Turning right, she stepped in and found herself in front of the stove.
To her left was the Keurig coffee maker and a mug rack. Abbey chose her favorite mug—a bright yellow one that showed the contrast between the mug and the dark brown coffee she was going to drink from it. It was much easier to see how much coffee she had left in a lighter and brighter mug.
She started a cup of coffee, feeling for the accessibility buttons or “bump dots” she’d placed on the important buttons of the Keurig, and then turned back to the stove.
“Aunt Rose, do you want eggs this morning?” she called. “I’m making one for myself.”
“Sure, honey—I’ll take one,” her aunt called back from somewhere else in the house.
“Scrambled okay?” Abbey asked. She preferred scrambled eggs herself—not because she loved the taste but because they were much easier to make than any style of egg where you didn’t break the yoke.
Also, sunny side up eggs were so easy to get wrong—it was hard to tell if the whites were cooked all the way through. And even if she did get them perfect, eating them was messy. It was too easy to get yoke all down her front when she had a difficult time seeing what she was putting in her mouth. Everything she ate just looked like a colorful blob.
For that same reason, she preferred to eat dry foods, without too many condiments or gravies or sauces. She always wanted to look neat and put together—that was difficult if she had spilled sauce on herself and couldn’t tell it.