"Is it done?"
I look at the thing in my hands and take a moment to consider what it is I have done.
Reeve is impatient when it comes to things like this, as we all often are when it comes to what we can't see.
Be it hopes, dreams, expectations, we can't wait for it to happen, and then we get somehow tired of waiting. Right?
I grimace and peer at the ball of light even more closely.
"I don't think it's ready."
Reeve releases a groan so loud you'd think he's been waiting for an eternity. I roll my eyes mentally and take another look around.
I've already established the fact that I'm blind as a bat, and repeating it in my head always pulls me into despair so I won't. The world appears to me in a shimmering white color and I try to feel for where one of the chairs might be.
To everyone else they're standing in a room, to me I'm standing in mid air, suspended between the blazing white above me and the one below. It's why I'm convinced the auras I see aren't figments of my imagination. Why
