Sightly

“Now it’s colorless…” Gillespie opened his left eye, winking his right eye. “Now it’s neon.”

“You’re kidding me.” The guy at the bus stop leaned over to look directly into Gillespie’s face.

“You would think the gray eye was the one that couldn’t see color, right?”

The adversopia he’d had since a kid was one-of-a-kind, and he loved each time someone noticed and he could explain it to them. “And now you have the honor of saying you’ve met the one person in the world who has adversopia.”

“You’re the only one?” The stranger sat straight again and wouldn’t stop looking at the difference between Gillespie’s gray eye and the tri-colored iris of his other eye. “I still think it’s contacts,” he shook his head. Gillespie encountered this line of denial plenty of times. He used to try proving it to people, but with age he just started letting it go. But there was the one other thing he could do.

“Well, you could believe that so you don’t have to feel like you’ve been duped. But my seeing differently isn’t restricted to just black-and-white, or neon.” He watched for the man to show interest. “My black-and-white eye sees inside things to some extent.”

“Like x-ray vision?” The man’s face opened with dubious surprise. “I dont’ know…” he seemed to think this was even more of a scam.

“And the neon side sees auras.”

“The energy color around people?”

“Yeah, like that.”

“Okay,” the stranger shrugged, his tone suggesting that Gillespie go ahead and prove it to him.

He closed his gray eye and looked with the one that appears like a pool of oil on water, but sees only shades of gray and white. “Alright…” He started scanning the nearby area as though he was trying to think of what to look through. He always knew where to look first, though. “So… you have 67 cents in your pocket. And a lighter. You smoke?”

“I - What?” The guy reached into his pocket and brought out his hand, examining it.

“You missed a penny,” he said, the one eye still shut.

“Ohmygod. That’s amazing.” The man stared at Gillespie.

He switched eyes, having learned to not stare at the person he was talking to with his aura-seeing eye, he looked out at the few people walking around. A man was going to his car across the street.

“Oh shit,” he muttered. “That guy is high.”

The stranger stared at the man. “You’re sure? He seems pretty solid.”

“Definitely,” Gillespie nodded. “His aura is uneven and splotchy. He should NOT drive.”

“Ok, I believe you,” the stranger stated. “Excuse me.”

“You’ll miss the bus.”

“This is more important,” the stranger stood with his shoulder bag. He nodded at the man at the car. “That’s my brother.”

Gillespie sobered from his self-important game, watching the man walk over to the car where the driver was still trying to get his keys out. Sometimes he was able to do good, which was rare. Typically if things went one way or another, it wouldn’t be good. He’d piss someone off or make them uncomfortable so they leave. He was glad this time for his singular anomaly.