I stood behind him, unmoving. My breath was shallow. All that could be heard was the distant ticking of a clock which matched my beating heart.
The boy, Bryon, turning his head to the left so that I could see his pale blue eye looking at me sightlessly.
"Hello?" He murmured, his voice soft and gentle.
I found my voice, replying timidly, "Hi,"
I shifted my weight back and forth from one foot to the other.
"Nice to see you again," He broke the silence with a kind smile, "What are you reading?"
I was confused at first by his question until I realized he was asking what I was reading currently, not what I was reading at that exact moment.
I hesitated before answering, "Shiver. It's by Maggie Stiefvater,"
He nodded thoughtfully. Reaching up, he felt the spines of the books before him. I noticed they had braille writing on them, little dents and indents.
"Interesting. I'm trying to find Brisinger by Christopher Paolini,"
I moved forward and placed my hand on top of Bryon's. He shivered at my touch, but did not pull away. I found the word Brisinger on a bookshelf above him.
"It's right - here," I told him, placing his hand on the book. I moved my hand away and watched as he brushed his fingers over it. He closed his eyes and hummed softly.
Smiling with his eyes shut he said, "Thank you,"
I couldn't find my voice this time, "Mmhmm," I mumbled. My face flushed with embarassment.
What was I embarassed about?