Blurred Reflections

Prologue

There's a kind of joy that sweeps you away, engulfing everything else around you until nothing else matters. It's the kind of fun that stirs the buried joy within, especially after a long day. You wish for it to last forever, that fleeting sense of pure bliss. But joy, as life often goes, is accompanied by its counterpart, sadness. Where one lingers, the other shall follow. And who could have guessed that a moment of boundless fun would lead to what seemed like an eternity of turmoil?

In the depths of that long corridor, the very last door stood tightly shut, adorned with caution signs. This room held the most agonizing memories for a group of five, but none more than the one person it affected the most. They had underestimated its power until they had no choice but to confront it. And if they believed that escape was the answer, they were about to discover how terribly wrong they were.

Angelina's fingertips grazed the bookshelves with newfound urgency. The library had always been her sanctuary, a calming refuge after the trials of the day. Her hands traced the countless textures, seeking solace in the written word. With cautious anticipation, she plucked a book from the shelf—its title, "Graceful Endings," piqued her interest. She set her white cane aside, a symbol of her partial blindness, a constant reminder of her limitations. Angelina preferred the company of her guide dog, Luna, but the library enforced a strict "No pets" policy. The cane drew unwanted attention, amplifying her insecurities. Losing a significant part of her vision had been painful enough; she didn't need the pitying gazes of others to deepen the wounds.

According to the braille translations, "Graceful Endings" explored the struggles of a girl trapped in her past. The familiarity struck Angelina deeply. Was this girl consumed by anger and sorrow? Did she yearn to undo the events that led her to her present circumstances? Did she dream of clarity in her vision once more?

With a sigh, Angelina carefully returned the book to its place and settled on the carpeted floor of the library. Slowly, she opened her eyes, once closed to the world. The world remained a blur of colors, even with her prescription glasses. Partial blindness had become her constant companion eight years ago, an indelible memory etched into her being.

Now, at twenty-six, she lived independently in Adelaide, working as a junior lawyer. Navigating the world with limited vision had never been part of her ten-year plan, but life had a way of redirecting the course. She couldn't help but wonder if she would ever be able to find the truth among the blurred reflections of her past.