Blinded By Arrogance

June always walked to work. Blond, perfect, smart, sexy June. At least that’s what Suzanna’s friends whispered to her when they happened to go with her along that very same path June did. Every morning, the woman usually bumped by Suzanna and her seeing eye dog, Rufus, without so much as a, “Good morning,” her candy-smelling perfume rubbing all over Suzanna’s shirt. Fake, just like her smile undoubtedly was.

On this particular day, Suzanna knew June must’ve had a rough fight with whatever stud she dated. Her breath reeked, alcohol strong and nauseating. Her heels clacked faster than usual, and Suzanna guessed they were at least three inches. Probably black to match some slimming work skirt and low-cut blouse. Today she wore a refined lavender perfume strong enough to overpower her booze stench. She all but shoved Suzanna into the street, and the blind woman only stayed on the curb because of her grip on Rufus’s guide strap. Cars flew by close enough to blow wind on her, and one honked.

“Watch it.” Suzanna held her hand over her heart, suddenly grateful she couldn’t see just how close to death she really had been.

June scoffed a little too loudly. “Guess I can’t say the same to you. You are always so damn early. Why are you even out? Isn’t it illegal for blind people to go places alone?”

“Obviously not.” Suzanna clenched the guide harness. Rufus was as calm as ever, waiting for the longest light on earth to turn red.

Then June scoffed again and her heels clacked forward, straight into the crosswalk. Rufus wasn’t moving, so that meant the light was still green. What was she doing?

The squeal of a car’s braking tires came out of nowhere. Unable to see, Suzanna wasn’t sure if the vehicle was just trying to make the light or if it didn’t see June until it was too late. Either way, June’s screams were unforgettable.

“I can’t see. Oh, God. I can’t fucking see!”