The Glasses

She needed me from the moment we met. It was as if her life had been emptier till then. And now that I was there, I made her feel safe and gave her a sense of freedom - one which she hadn’t realised she’d been lacking before. Ironic that, because - when you think about it - we were co-dependent. Which is why we did everything together: enjoying the view on long country walks, watching lazy daytime TV, and, come Sunday, contemplating the specials board in the pub. After a while, it almost felt like we had become one another’s identities; though, if I’m honest, on occasions I felt like I’d become a mask for her to hide behind - keeping her ever so slightly hidden from the world.

Sometimes she’d complain that I was too dirty. That felt unfair, because if I was, it was only because she had let me be. And at parties she’d occasionally toss me aside – I never understood why, but it hurt, and it felt like she was ashamed to be seen with me in public. She did the same too at weddings. Disloyal that, considering she always said she needed me most in crowds.

But other than that, we were good – and, for four years, she reached for me every morning, disorientated until she had me in her clasp. That was always the start to the day: me - ‘her eyes’, as she liked to call me - and her, ready to take on the world. But now, I just don’t know, I haven’t seen her in a while. I hope she isn’t lost.

HER: Sod it, I’m gonna get laser.