I was but a child the last time I last gazed into the sun’s hot, yellow flame. My young eyes stung. I screamed. After that moment there followed darkness, and my mother’s tears.
Since then the world has been the pictures I build within my own mind. The senses of touch, smell and sound growing stronger to replace the kin which was lost. Some say I can see more than those with sight. But I can’t do it alone.
My Jemma may never speak – but she is always listening; always watching; always ready.
She truly is this man’s best friend.
These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.
[This is a new story, not a re-publication of an old one]