"You keep cleaning your glasses," the child said to her grandmother one day when they were sitting together.
"Because I can't seem to see right with them on," the grandmother replied, though she could see well enough to understand what the girl thought of that. It isn't that I can't that accept my eyes are failing, she wanted to tell her. It's that I can't accept that this is as good as it gets.
"I guess I can see all I need to, though," the grandmother said instead, putting her glasses on and looking away.
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