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[b]Summer, 2012
Late Morning
Manhattan, New York[/b][/center]


Matthew stepped from the dusty cab seat into the humid, buzzing atmosphere of 35th street. His walking stick collapsed from his hand and clacked against the sidewalk. Matthew drew a bill from his back pocket, a bill which he knew was a twenty, and offered it through the open passenger window. 

“Thanks” he said softly, stepping back from the curb and against a mailbox. He could tell it was a mailbox because of it’s bulkiness, the hard rusted metal which he’d seen all his life. Matt reached up to his chest to make sure his tie was straight, then lined up his lapels. He’d dressed himself this morning, sent a nearly unusable selfie to Karen in order to make sure he matched. The magic of smart phones was something that made being blind a little easier. 

Matthew lifted his head into the smoggy air and basked in the beaming sunlight. He removed his red tinted glasses, used to protect his still sensitive eyes, and felt the warmth cover him completely. He felt a sense of oneness then, a transcendental, numinous experience; one which could not be described or recommissioned. 

Just then he felt a tug on his slender wrist. The delicate fingers traced the pit above his thumb and ran over his veins, finally grabbing at the palm. He clasped back when he realized who it was. The delicate and deliberate movements of Karen could never be forgotten to him, no matter how many senses he lost. Her lips met his and he struggled to anticipate the kiss. Almost a quarter of a year after the accident and he was still playing catch-up. 

“Come on.” She said quietly, leading him through the jumbled crowd. He realized that people were parting for him and Karen. He pulled his hand away to relieve himself of the spectacle. Karen glanced back with worry, but settled into embarrassment when she realized what she’d been doing. He was like a child trailing behind her. Matt collapsed his walking stick and continued behind her, making sure to keep her arm sleeve within arms reach for confirmation. He made it all the way through the block and up the stairs without bumping into anyone or tripping on anything. Something he thought he should take pride in, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to. 

Quietly in and up the elevator for a long while until Matt could hear the door slide open and Karen’s heels click against the floor. Once again, vague, undefined outlines blur somewhere in Matt’s mind and he could see a faint approximation of the room. There was no color or definition, but he could “see” it. And then it was gone. Matt stood in the elevator for just a moment, trying to take it all in. 

“This is the floor.” Karen said, stopping the door from closing. “You don’t have to be nervous. I told you, Mr. Nelson knows exactly who you are. He wants you.”

Matt feigned consolation, smirked before crossing the threshold into the air-conditioned corridor. “Of course.”

The Nelson & Son law firm was a small group of liberal lawyers from Chicago, some of which were related. Karen had just begun work as a paralegal there only a few months ago. It provided the perfect entre for Matt. He sat carefully in the comfortable chair, 5 paces from the door. He crossed his legs in front of him, opened his portfolio case, and let his walking stick lean against his chair. The door opened behind him and a man walked in, his half inch heels slightly scuffing against the tile. He smelled like a New Yorker despite being the eldest member of the firm, Ronald Nelson (the father), and raised primarily in Illinois. He grunted as he sat but the chair didn’t, he scooted forward silently; he was a thin man, roughly 6’2. Matthew could tell this from only his most mild observations. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Matthew” Ronald said pleasantly. 

“Quite a pleasure to be here, Mr. Nelson. I couldn’t turn down meeting a former state attorney, with at least the chance of working for him.” Matt said clearly, confidently, whilst rubbing the hard leather of his binder. 

Ronald Nelson scoffed, probably waved his hands. “That’s all in the past, young man. You’ll find that I’m not as sharp as that man was.” He chuckled. Matt could hear the click of glasses unfolding. “So, I have your resume here. I’d be liable if I just said ‘impressive’.”

Matt smiled at that. 

“Bronx Science, Leehman honor student. We have one of those here working for us.” Ronald noted off-handedly. 

“I know,” Matt said shyly with a smile. 

The rest of the interview continued along informal, affable lines. They ended with a warm hug, and Matt receiving a set of keys in his breast pocket. “See you Wednesday. Do you need a layout of the building?”

Matt shook his head, collapsed his walking stick. “I have an excellent scout.” He said with a smile. He walked the 5 paces back to the door, stopped to carefully open it, and traveled the remaining 20 paces to the elevator, missing the button narrowly by an inch on his first try. “Almost got it” he whispered to himself as he made his descent.