Micro Fiction: Lens Obscura

“There’s nothing wrong with the contacts.”

“I’m seeing things I shouldn’t,” I reply.

He only shakes his head. I slip the tech back on. The system syncs to my brain. In my peripherals, I see alerts about the weather, texts from my mother, an ad for a sale. I step outside the shop and she’s waiting in the dusk. She smiles with her sharp, shark’s teeth. People walk through her, but that doesn’t stop her from being there. I remove the contacts. She’s gone. The world is blurry, I’ll have to stumble home. She’s gone, but I know she’s waiting.

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