Blindsided
By Eric Brown
I stopped dictating a letter on my laptop’s voice recognition program, turned my head and listened.
I hadn’t been mistaken. There was someone downstairs. I heard footsteps on the linoleum in the laundry room and cursed Mrs. Jones. She came twice a week to do the washing, and invariably left the window open.
The sound was faint, muffled by the intervening rooms—but my hearing has always been acute, to compensate for my lifelong blindness.
Maria, my secretary, arrived every day at one o’clock. She’d unlock the front door with her own key and call my name. It was now just after twelve, so I couldn’t rely on her arriving any time soon and saving the day.
When Charles, my lover of two years, had left three months ago—or rather, when I kicked him out after learning of his serial unfaithfulness—Maria had suggested she move in for a while, but I insisted I was fine and could look after myself.
I wished, now, that I’d accepted her offer.
. . .
