I rush down the aisle of the store, eager to get back to my dorm as soon as possible, back to the safety of my bed and blankets. Classes are so much harder for me than they were last year. My mind swirls with a list of things I have to get done today, this week, this month. Everyone told me that going to college would give me so much freedom and power, but they were wrong. I am limited to what classes will best further my career.

Only one checkout lane is open, of course. It has a long line, inevitably. I stand and wait, on my phone, my hand freezing from the jug of milk in my hand. The line slowly inches forward, little by little.

When it gets to be my turn, I set the milk down in front of the cashier and fumble to get my wallet out of my bag. A mess of change spills out on the counter. I sigh out of frustration, but the cashier just smiles up at me kindly and picks up the coins, giving me the leftover change. As he does, his fingers brush mine, and the most amazing thing happens.

I can see.

I can see all of the colors in the store, the color of my skin, the color of the milk jug, the color of my purse and of my wallet.

I can see the color of his eyes.

I've finally found him at last, and that's all that matters. All of my frustrations fall away from me as I look into his eyes.

"I have found you," he says.

"I can see you," I say.