Glasses Stories Novels & Stories

he says. “Then you must know the reason for my sudden call,” I say politely. The call goes silent for a few seconds. Then his voice comes again. “Yes, I know. It's regarding those glasses. How did you even get them?” he asks, his voice a little tense. My brow furrows. “I got them from the Moonstone Fair. A booth was selling those glasses, and Ezra wanted the star-shaped ones.” I reply. I hear his sigh through the speaker. “It's terrible that he had to end up with that cursed thing,” he says, and my muscles turn tense.

it is already working. "yeah, but the only sad thing is that when dr. Victoria told me you had to wear glasses I had seen these super cool frames which had superman imprints on the legs, now we don't have to buy it." I said giving him a fake sad expression and then went to refill his glass of juice. "Bella wait." my smile couldn't get any bigger but when I looked at him I had a confused expression. "Yeah?" "I want those glasses." "But you just said you didn't."

There were subtle hickeys around his neck. The caption read, 'The boss said this mirror belongs exclusively to me from now on.' I took a deep breath, but my stomach still churned with disgust. I had sponsored him three years ago. At the time, he had cried while begging me for a chance. He promised he would repay my kindness one day and become a man who could stand tall with pride. Feeling sorry for him and recognizing some genuine talent, I not only funded his education but also made an exception by offering him an internship at Zeller Inc.

"I see -- what changed into that approximate glasses? Disregarding sunglasses, normal spectacles and call lenses must now no longer prevent the strength of the mystic eyes -- Are you virtually implying that the enemy's glasses have gone through a unique remedy?" Anna tapped her glasses and requested. "That's my guess. Talismans are useless, boundaries are impractical. To steer clear of the mystic eyes, making use of unique remedy to glasses which stand in among eye touch will be the fine strategy. If that changed into accomplished, even surprising encounters of the mystic eyes may be defended. But the instructor had taken her glasses off on the time. That stated, it is viable the ones specta

"Like... the second you shut your eyes, something might be right there behind you? I swear I can't even rinse my damn hair without thinking someone's about to burst in through the door or window. It's ridiculous, right?" He gave a quick laugh, not waiting for my answer. "There's a funny story behind it, so now I just keep my eyes open. It stings like hell when the shampoo gets into my eyes, so I bought some goggles to help with that." He hummed again, off-key, before adding, almost cheerfully, "I'm bored, so I'll tell you the story. I had this guy once—Frankie. Big guy, shoulders like a fridge. Thought he was smarter than me."

I looked again at the card, ninth floor, office number 535. I was ready to rock on and maybe give this thing a chance. But all my expectations turned into nothing at the moment someone bumped straight into me, making me lose my balance. I fell miserably on the floor dropping my glasses. My vision became blurry. It was impossible to see. I have myopia. Without my glasses I'm nothing more than useless... “Watch out women.” A deep man's voice reached my ears. “Sir, please, my glasses.” No response. What on earth! “Sir, I can't see!” Again, nothing. The only thing I could see was his blurry figure vanishing as he went far away.

It was my turn to be speechless. She took glasses off her eyes and dropped it on the bed. I was able to see deep into her big blue eyes clearly. There were no tears on her skin but I could them hidden inside her eyes. She was internally crying. "It's a short, boring story" She said, shrugging with a dry smile. She was going casual with the topic, but I could see the strength she had built up to tell the glasses story. "It started when I was a kid" She darted her eyes to the bed. "My biological father..." she paused and flicked her eyes to my face. "Not the man you saw the last time"

"I hate your glasses." That hurt. Her desire evaporated. She had been teased and taunted over her glasses through much of her younger life. To her extreme disappointment her eyesight never improved before she reached immortality. "I can't see without them," she mumbled, dropping her gaze. Vincent reached up, slipping a finger under her glasses and pulling them off her nose. Immediately her vision blurred. "That's too bad," he murmured huskily. "You might even be pretty if not for these." He tossed her glasses onto the bed as if they offended him.

one of the men said as he started walking toward me with a smug look on his face. "I'm not going anywhere with you, and you're going to regret coming into this shop tonight because I have a brother who is dying and I don't have time to play games with my father’s old lapdogs," I replied as I reached behind me and grabbed a heavy glass jar of antiseptic from the counter. I threw the jar at his head and he ducked just enough for it to miss, but it gave me the second I needed to lung forward and drive a jagged shard of glass from the broken window into the soft spot under his chin.

He hadn’t told her he was coming. He didn’t know if he should. But when he saw her silhouette appear behind the glass, his chest tightened. She looked smaller than before. And stronger. Vivienne noticed him a moment later. Their eyes met through the glass. She pressed her hand against the window. So did he. Separated by inches of reinforced steel and years of manipulation, they stood there, breathing the same city air, sharing the same silence. Her phone buzzed. Vivienne: You shouldn’t be here.