She walked into the room and closed the door behind her, as I sat in the chair, slightly uneasy in the warm atmosphere, the fan lazily spiralling overhead. There was no one else in the room, and she looked at me, reaching behind her to flick the switch, plunging the room into near-darkness. The only light came from the panel on the far wall, muted, faint. She moved closer, touching my face, lifting my head up. She moved closer still, her face so close to mine that I could feel the heat of her cheeks as they nearly brushed against my own. I could smell the faint, clean fragrance of her hair, almost hidden by the stronger yet still subtle perfume she wore. She looked deep into my eyes, holding my gaze for minutes on end and as I looked back, I could see the lines of her face in the faint glow from the wall; her hair a delicate sweep along her cheek and throat. I had the strange feeling as I looked at her that I wasn’t looking into her eyes but rather into mine, through her. There were strange patterns, traceries of interlocking lines, a feeling of infinite depth in the darkness.
“Your retinas look very healthy”, she said. “However, there appears to have been a change in the prescription of your right eye from -5.5 to -5.0 diopters, and the angle of your astigmatism has shifted by almost 90 degrees. You’re going to have to get a new pair of glasses. Any questions?”