"I'm not lonely. Tell me about your plan."

"I am not supposed to talk. So, I can't."

"Oh come on, whisper it, won't you?"

"All right, but I do not want to hear you object after I spend my time doing what I am not supposed to."

"Well, if I don't like the idea, I'm not going to go for it."

She is exasperating at times, my sister. Here I was trying my best to help her do what she loves even though I sound just like she said- a scratched LP and she was getting herself in a huff before I could even tell her what I was up to. "Tori, for heaven's sake, shut up."

She frowned. "Very well. Tell me then."

So I told her of my work to find a reader, or at the rate she listens, several readers to come here and read to her. I watched her face for signs of an explosion, but she just sat, banging her pen off on a tablet layng in her lap. A pen? A tablet?

"Tori? Is there something you want to tell me? Can you see?" My God, a miracle." My heart was going to burst right out of my chest. I jumped up, ran over to her and picked up the tablet. "What is this, Tori?"

"A poem, well, it may be a poem."

"It's crooked." I regretted saying it, even before I watched her face sour.

"To answer your question, there have been no miracles. I am still without eyes as you know them."

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