Word: eye
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When I woke up Saturday morning, ready to complain about only getting three hours of sleep, a quick look in the mirror shut me up. My right eye was completely red. Not red like, “Wow, your eye looks pretty bloodshot.” Red like someone had colored it in with a magic marker...
Donning a prescription out of date by nine years, I quickly made the dash from Leverett to meet my group in Mather. With my right eye squeezed shut and one hand blocking my face as I turned it away from the sun’s reach, I felt like a rat or some other nocturnal rodent scurrying painfully into the shock of broad daylight...
...hours later, I met my blockmates for dinner. “What’s wrong with you?” one of them asked from about 15 feet away. I guess my eye situation had not improved...
...that I could blame her. I was sitting there curled up in a dining hall chair, holding teabags over my eye, and whining dramatically about how “I had just never felt this way before.” I winced each time I looked toward one of the chandeliers overhead, and spent the majority of the meal with my eyes closed, wrapped up in my own world, inserting random comments into the conversation...
They were going to bring in an eye specialist, a voice said. “Okay,” I mumbled, not opening my eyes. I had slept five hours in the last two days and I was completely ready to spend the night on that UHS exam table, waiting for someone to ride in and diagnose...