Emma went to sleep in the world she knew. Woke up in one she didn’t.
She blinked. Again. Again. The darkness stayed.
“Mommy, I can’t see.”
She sits up front, close to the chalkboard. An eyepatch pressed against her face—a magnet for stares. The magnifying glass, heavy in her palm. A reminder: She’s not like the others.
Sloan bursts in like sunlight.
A breath. A nudge. A heartbeat close to hers. Eyes that don’t flinch. Don’t judge. That see a friend.
“I don’t know where she’d be without Sloan,” Emma’s mom, Alexis, says. “He’s opened up this light in her life.”
Leash resting in her hand, Emma steps outside. Sloan trots beside her. A sparkly sticker over his right eye. His own patch, set with care by small fingers. Just right.
Different feels easier with someone by your side.
“With Sloan, Emma understands everything is going to be okay. Now she has a friend that she can rely on with no judgment,” Alexis says. “Sloan sees her for her.”
The sun sets. The house quiets.
Emma hums a tune. A lullaby for her new friend. She tucks him in, presses a kiss between his ears, and nestles close.
Morning breaks.
A wagging tail. A sleepy smile. The world, waiting.
