This is me!
People often say how handsome I am. Is this what they call handsome?
"No. Handsome." A corner of my lips upturned as I said that aloud.
—Clinkkk... Clankkk...
It was a gentle, rhythmic sound that cut through my memory lane.
I listened with my eyes closed—the crisp clink of chimes swaying in a breeze, layered over a soft, continuous pitter-patter of rainfall striking a wooden porch.
Why does it seem so close? Did I forget to close the window?
"Oh! It's my phone!"
It was a late realization. The ringing stopped just as my fingers reached the table. The screen lit up on my nightstand with a name I had been desperately waiting for—Doctor Gilbert Sterling.
I immediately swiped the screen, tapping the call-back button without hesitation. Sitting up, I straightened my back.
—Ringgg, ringgg... Ringgg, ringgg...
The call went through on the third ring.
"Did you hear back from the International Board?" Skipping all the formalities, I went straight to the point.
It had to be a positive answer. He wouldn't be calling at such an ungodly hour otherwise.
My heart dropped as a heavy sigh brushed past the receiver.
"I managed to get a partial clearance on the transport origin forms, but I need to remind you, Adrian..." Doctor Sterling tone turned grave. "...donor privacy laws exist for a reason. Crossing these lines can be psychologically overwhelming for transplant recipients."
"I just want to express my gratitude to the family, Doc," I said, keeping my voice calm, measured, and reasonable. "You know that."
"I know," Doctor Sterling replied quietly. "Which is the only reason I pushed them on this. The shipment records didn't originate from our regional network. The eyes were brought in under a special private transfer from a clinic in northern Germany."
"Germany?"
The word hung in the quiet air of my bedroom—like a missing piece of a puzzle I had spent two years trying to solve, suddenly falling into place.
"I'm really grateful for your efforts, Doc. Thank you," I said hurriedly. "Something urgent just came up. Let's talk tomorrow, alright? Good night."
"Adrian, wait—"
I cut the call before he could protest. Pulling open my desk drawer, I reached for a thick, leather-bound diary.
I ran my fingertips over the cover with my eyes closed, feeling the raised, familiar dots of Braille pressed into the leather—Aurelia.
—"The eyes were brought in under a special private transfer from a clinic in northern Germany."
Doctor Sterling's words replayed in my mind like an echo. I snapped out of the trance, flipping through the pages until my fingers paused on a single line of ink...
"Diese verfluchte Farbe deiner Haare ist genau wie er!"
I ran a hand through my hair habitually and chuckled softly to myself.
"Why didn't I think of this beforehand?"