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The man rose from his stool under the shade of awning at the corner-shop. Stepping out from under cover, he could once more feel the rays of the sun wash upon his skin. He turned around to wave at the girl in the booth. She waved back, smiled, and continued to serve the next customer.

The ice-cream in his hand was melting rapidly, so the man quickly rushed his mouth to the top of the cone to save it from falling to the scorched cement. He savored the sweet, fruity flavor and felt the refreshing cold of the last bite slide down his throat and fill his body from head to toe. Just then, a cool breeze rushed past him, catching strands of his jet-black hair and the hem of his over shirt. He continued down the concrete path, the world around him slowly beginning to disappear. He spread his arms like wings, took a deep breath, and pressed on, the distractions of the street impenetrable to his blissful state.

Whisps of the soft breeze continued to swirl by. With his eyes closed and his arms held out high, he remembered the birds. He used to watch them as a kid, always imagining how they’d sound, flying high up in the sky and singing their songs. In one of his books he read that the nightingale had a distinct and wondrous song. He wished that some day he could hear their songs, because he knew that it would truly be something beautiful. Of course, any sound would be welcomed in a life filled with silence.

His eyes still closed, the man collided with an unknown entity and fell to his knees, feeling the warmth and weight of another body fall down on top of him. He opened his eyes and found the figure of a young woman lying there next to him on the pavement.

Quickly, without hesitation, the man helped the woman up and brushed her off. He turned to try to escape the embarrassment, but the woman heard him scuffling behind her and quickly spun around, slamming her white cane into his leg. The man turned around and produced a scream with no sound. The woman stood anxiously, “I’m sorry. Are you alright, sir?”

He noticed her lips move, but he couldn’t work out what she was saying. He also noticed she was wearing sun-glasses and that she held a white walking stick in her hand. In his observation, he also saw that her head was pointed in a rather odd direction, and he found that strange. Soon his eyes remembered their mission and they darted back to the woman’s lips just as the words formed in her mouth, “Are you okay?”

The man nodded, but she gave no reaction. Almost instantly he realized she could not see the gesture, or more likely, anything at all. Thinking quickly, he grabbed her free hand and tried to send her a signal. “What are you doing?” she asked. He didn’t see her question.

Closing her hand into a fist and pulling her thumb outward, the man attempted to inform her of his condition. “Thumbs up? Are you trying to tell me you’re all right? I’m only blind, you know; not deaf!”

The man put her finger to her lips. After a short pause, he then took her hand and placed it on his throat. The woman’s hand shook, frightened and wanting to pull it away. With her index finger, the man traced an “X” over his vocal chords. She stopped shaking, and the woman realized the situation.

“Oh, I see. You can’t speak?” He tugged on her thumb to confirm.

The woman grinned, “Looks like we’ve got something in common, then.”

The man laughed. He made no noise, but the woman somehow could sense his amusement. She laughed with him.

For a moment they were silent. The man stared at the woman, imagining how beautiful her eyes looked beneath her sun-glasses. He noticed that they were awfully crooked. She started to speak, “Well then. I guess I should…” He reached over and gently pulled the frames back into place, firmly nestled on her nose. She gasped, startled.

“Th.. Thank you.” She said in a softer voice, smiling gently and pointing her head downwards, feeling almost silly.

He reached over to her cheek, almost as if by instinct, and touched the back of his hand to her skin. It was smooth. The continuing breeze passing by brought the tranquil scent of her perfume to the man’s nose. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, the smell heightening his senses. He had never felt or been so close to something so beautiful. She put her hand on top of his and closed her eyes. Never had a complete stranger treated her with such attention, such kindness. But she quickly realized that the man was indeed a stranger and pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry, but I don’t even know your name.”

The man took his hand back. He thought for a second. In her hand, he made a walking motion with his fingers and pulled her along the sidewalk. The man headed hastily back to the corner-shop he had just left. The girl smiled when she saw him, “Back so soon?” she inquired. He nodded, “Who’s your friend?”

The man shrugged. He pulled a notepad and pencil from his pocket and opened it up to a clean page. He quickly scribbled words on the paper and showed it to the girl. “She doesn’t know your name?”

The woman waited patiently and smirked as she heard the interaction between the two. The man nodded and wrote some more. “Sure, I can tell her for you. Ma’am, this is Frank Stephens and he’s certainly pleased to meet you.”

Frank didn’t take his eyes off of the woman’s lips, wanting more than anything in the world to know her name, “Hello Frank. My name is Lisa Heartwell. I’m glad to meet you too.” Frank grinned and shook her hand.

He took the pad again and flipped to a new page. He wrote a few more words and the girl read them, “Well, Ms. Heartwell, it looks like Frank would like to buy you some ice cream. Would you care for some?”

“I’d love some,” she said graciously.

The girl scooped out some vanilla ice cream into a waffle cone and handed it to Frank. Carefully, he guided Lisa’s hand around the cone and she took a bite from the top. “Delicious!” She licked her lips in enjoyment. Frank went to pay the young girl, but she wouldn’t accept it. “Don’t worry, Frank, it’s on me.”

Frank mouthed a “Thank You” to the girl. He then turned to Lisa and grabbed her by the hand, letting her cane hang between their fingers. He led her forward with his other hand on her shoulder.

It was weird, but for once Lisa felt safe. Her whole life she never saw the world, and that always made her sad. But for once, she didn’t care. Frank looked over to her. He thought of nightingale again. He knew that hearing its song must feel something like this. Together, they stepped out from under the awning of the corner-shop and the sunlight washed upon their skin once more.