ROSE COLORED GLASSES Amanda
Zapata
Roses were always my favorite flowers. They are a symbol of love and harmony in the world. They represent the idea that love transcends death, resurrection, and rebirth. Such delicate flowers shouldn’t exist in a cruel world such as ours. It’s the reason why I volunteered to get the brain chip. The implant will alter my vision to censor everything I find uncomfortable to look at. I won’t have to worry about bloody noses or horror movies ever again! The problem was telling my loved ones about it. They would never understand my reasoning behind it. I decided to tell my best friend first, two days before the operation. Their reactions were worse than I had anticipated. It felt like decades had gone during the five seconds of stillness. Mangiano was the first to speak up. “Are you serious, Anastasia?” His tone was cold. Harsh. It sent shivers down my spine. “The operation is in two days. If it goes well I—” “And what if it doesn’t? You’re going to permanently alter your vision! This could destroy your brain!” I sighed. I knew this would happen, but I didn’t expect his reaction to be this severe. I stood silent for a moment, before responding and ending the conversation. “It’s too late to back out. This chip will help me. One day, you’ll be asking for one too.” ***** I felt like I had a migraine. I knew I was in a hospital room; I could hear the heart monitor beeping. Why wouldn’t my eyes focus? Why was everything a pink haze? Panic started to rise 273
