Marks POV
I see the world in black and white unlike any other person I knew. It's depressing, not being able to see color, not being able to know what the things I love look like.
I lost color when I was about ten years old. My family got into a car accident and my seatbelt didn't react in time. I was thrown forward and hit my head on the seat in front of me.
It was heartbreaking, to wake up in a hospital bed and only see things like the coloring of an old television show. I know my eyes are a deep chocolate brown, but to me, they look black on white. I know the clothes I wear hold color, but I can't see it. I would give anything get to see color again. You don't take such a small thing for granted before it's ripped away from you so suddenly.
I sigh as I hear my name being called out, and I remember where I am. I push myself up off the small stool I found, sitting alone at a table by a big window facing the street. I walk to the counter to retrieve my steaming hot coffee. The cup is boring and colorless.
I wrap my hand around it, thanking the barista, and turn around only to bump into someone. I hear a feminine voice hiss in pain as my coffee burns her skin.
"Oh my god, are you okay? I'm so sorry! I should I have been watching where I was going. Jeez, I'm such an idiot sometimes," I mumble as I walk the girl over to a counter.
"No, no, don't be sorry! It was totally my fault!" Her beautiful voice fills my ears as I grab at the thin napkins from a dispenser. I hold hem out to her and she accepts them with a wide smile, thanking me.
"Please," she starts, "Let me replace your coffee since your other one ended up on me." Her laugh is contagious, so I have no choice but to laugh with her.
"Sure, but only if you promise to find a table with me." The girl smiles and nods. I allow her to buy my coffee and I find a table while she waits for our coffees. I'm still embarrassed that I spilled my coffee onto her, but at least it was only a little bit. Not that it makes it any better.
Not even a minute later, the girl comes towards me. She gently sets my coffee in front of me, smiling as she takes a seat in the chair across from me.
"So," she starts, "What's your story?"
"Well, my name is Mark and I am a big YouTuber with about 18 million subscribers. Also, I'm colorblind." I try to throw the last part in quickly, hoping she doesn't catch it. I would rather her ask about my job than how I see the world.
"Wow! That's amazing! You must have some really die-hard fans out there," she says as she takes a small sip of her steaming coffee. "You also said you're colorblind? That's amazing."
I sit confused. Amazing? Does this girl not know how hard it is to imagine color, how hard it is to see everything like the coloring of an old television show? "Are you making fun of me? How is it amazing?" Even I can hear the annoyance and anger that my voice is heavily coated with.
"No, no I'm not making fun of you. You have a real gift. You have the power to see things in their raw form, their real beauty. Most would look at a flower and comment on the vibrant color that is displayed. But you, you might notice the way the petals lay and fall on top of one another, or you might notice how the steam isn't strong enough to hold the flower yet, so it bends a tiny bit." She looks down at the table, tracing small patterns into the wood.
Her words strike me. I never thought of it that way. She just explained my sight in the most beautiful way I've ever heard. It almost makes me want to cry, this girl has made me feel more normal than anyone I've known for years has.
"Thank you." My hands gently move up and down my coffee cup as I start to feel bad for my outburst to her before.
"How do you see that brick wall over there? Because what I see is a rust-like color with a rough texture." She stares at the wall to the right side of us for a second before turning back to me. I just now realize how pretty she really is. Sure, I can't see what color her eyes are, or what the color of her hair is, but I know her eyes hold the world, while I can tell her hair would feel like silk flowing between my fingers.
She gives me a curious look with a raised eyebrow when she catches me staring at her. I feel my cheeks infuse with heat and I glance over at the wall to answer her question.
"The wall is old. The mortar between the bricks is cracking and missing in some spots, but it's made to look that way. The bricks aren't real. It's like a sticker, a 3-D wall decal placed crooked."
"See?" she says, " I didn't notice any of that. You see the world in a very special way, you might not think that now, but you will. You have a gift." Her phone dings loudly and she pulls it out of her back pocket. She sighs and places it back. She looks back up at me, "I'm sorry, but I have to go. Maybe we can do this again sometime?"
I nod and she's already up, making her way to the doors. "Wait!" I call for her, "I didn't even get your name!"
The girl whips around and yells, "It's (Y/n)!" Before I can say anything else to her, she has disappeared behind the closing doors. I sigh and look back at her place she sat only moments before. There is a small napkin with a number scrawled across it. I can feel a smile take over my facial features as I slip the napkin into my pocket.
I exit the coffee shop and begin to see the world in the most beautiful way I can.
