Darkness.

                That is the first thing you notice.

                You look around, trying to find something, anything that isn’t black. You don’t succeed.

                You wonder what is happening.

                And you try to remember what you were doing.

                Then, you realize something.

                You can hear something. You didn’t notice it before because you were too busy looking around, but you most definitely notice it now. It’s very familiar, the tone, the way it moves, the way you hear it. You feel as if you can’t find the puzzle piece to complete the puzzle. You hear footsteps coming closer.

                Now, you smell something. You can’t exactly identify it, but it smells. . . good. Comforting. As if you grew up with that smell and have grown accustomed to it. It smells like a sort of. . . flower. You still can’t place it. Lavender, maybe?

                Suddenly you feel a warm but soft pressure on your wrist. You hear that familiar sound again. You realize that someone is talking. You know that it is a girl. It sounds familiar, but you can’t put a finger on it. You try to listen to what she is saying.

                “Can you hear me, Annalise? You haven’t been answering my question. Are you alright? You have been staring outside into the sun for quite a long time.”

                You realize it is your mother, and she sounds worried. You turn your head towards the sound. You hear a gasp.

                “Annalise, what has happened to your eyes? What has happened to your lovely green eyes? Oh dear, Annalise, can you see me, or anything, anything at all?”

                You shake your head. You feel your mother pull you into a comforting embrace, and you feel something stroke your hair. You realize that your mother is weeping, and it gives you a heavy heart. You wonder why she is sad.

                You still can’t see anything, and you wonder what had happened. All you can remember is a blinding light.