“What do I look like?”

I stopped mid-sentence, almost letting go of his arm in surprise at this unexpected question. I had been describing the blue-green waves that drummed against our feet, leaving behind tangled tufts of seaweed as they receded.

“Well,” I paused, studying his face. “You are nice looking.” He smiled, patiently waiting for me to go on.

“You have blue eyes.” Did he even know what blue was?

“And blonde hair.” Impossible.

“And you’re taller than me.” Ridiculous. How would he know how tall I even was?

“You also have a splatter of freckles across your nose.” What was I thinking? He probably didn’t have a clue what I just said.
It was our last day together. I had faithfully visited him every day after school ever since the beginning of my freshman year. As time went on, it became an unspoken tradition that I would take him to the beach during my visits. Sometimes, I would spend hours describing the breathtaking scenery he would never see, ranging anywhere from the lacy white foam of the blue-green ocean waves to the golden-red arc of the sunset. Sometimes, I would read a short story or novel that I had brought along while he sat next to me, listening intently as he hung on to each and every word. Sometimes, we would just talk.
I was seventeen now. It was only a week before I left for college. He had sat quietly beside me as I broke the news. His only request was that I describe the beach one last time.
“I know what you look like,” he whispered, abruptly snapping me out of my thoughts. His fingers closed over mine as he turned to face me.

“Really? What?” I was taken aback. His normally blank eyes, devoid of sight as they were, flickered with a light that I had never before seen there. For the first time in years, I wondered if he could actually see me.

He smiled.

“Beautiful.”