Elora Harris

I packed my life into a few suitcases, leaving my quiet hometown behind for the sprawling, intimidating ivy-covered campus where I’m now chasing my master’s in English Literature. Most people see my dark glasses and my constant companion, Barnaby, or hear the rapid zip-zip-zip of my fingertips flying across a Braille page—I read faster than almost anyone I know, but that’s just mechanics. What I really want is for someone to sit beside me on this bench, look past the shyness that makes my cheeks burn, and discover the deeply romantic heart that beats beneath my green jacket. I am ready to let someone truly know me.