Where Are My Glasses?
- PenName Protection
- Nov 15, 2024
- 2 min read
a short story by PenName Protection
Sarah paced frantically around her living room, her eyes squinting at everything she passed. The room was perfectly still, as if mocking her frantic search. “Where are they? I know I left them here somewhere!”
She bent down to look under the coffee table for the third time, kicking aside a stray sock and a remote control. Her glasses were nowhere to be found. She stood up, wiped her hands on her jeans, and began her third round of searching through the kitchen.
“No, no, no, no! Not the fridge again,” she muttered to herself, opening the refrigerator door to check. It was a ritual she had long since accepted: when Sarah misplaced anything—keys, phone, glasses—the fridge was often the place she’d find it.
The glasses weren’t there. But that didn’t stop her from staring at the contents of the fridge, lost in thought for a moment, wondering if there was anything edible. She snapped out of it with a shake of her head. “Focus, Sarah. Focus.”
She went back to the living room, her mind racing. She checked every bookshelf, every surface. She even checked her pockets, despite the fact that she was sure they hadn’t been in there when she last looked.
“Maybe I left them in the bathroom?” she wondered aloud, heading down the hallway with a determined step.
She rifled through the bathroom cabinet, combing through her toiletries. Shampoo? Check. Toothpaste? Check. Glasses? Not a chance.
By this point, Sarah’s frustration was reaching new heights. She had checked every inch of her apartment thrice. She couldn’t believe it. How could something so small be so elusive? She slumped down on the couch, buried her face in her hands, and groaned.
Her phone buzzed. A message from her friend Jen: “Hey, did you want to meet for lunch in 20?”
Lunch? Of course, she’d forgotten all about it. She glanced around again, still without her glasses. “Ugh, I can’t go like this!” She’d need to find them. She had to find them.
As if on autopilot, Sarah reached up to rub her forehead. And that’s when it happened. Her fingers brushed against something smooth. Something… hard. She blinked, her eyes going wide.
Her glasses. Right there.
Resting on top of her head.
She let out a small, incredulous laugh, slumping back on the couch. “Of course,” she muttered to herself. “Why wouldn’t they be on my head? They’re always on my head when I’m looking for them.”
With a sigh, she slid the glasses down onto her nose and typed a quick reply to Jen: “I’ll be there in 10. …If I can find my keys.”
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