“Poor are those who have eyes but cannot see.” Those were the last words my family said the day I lost mine.

“The agency said you needed an extra pair of arms and a fresh set of eyes to help around the house.” The voice said as it travelled from the couch.

“Yes.” I answered

“You have a lovely home. I really like your display case. Do you have an interest in ophthalmology?’ The voice asks with a tremor and accepts the cup of tea.

“No. This collection belonged to my parents; eyes were their thing. My interests lie elsewhere.”