“I...” he doesn’t know what to say to that. He isn’t sure. “I want to wear it now.” He decides to go with the complicated truth. “I always want to wear it. To be able to just reach out and touch anything or anyone without having to be so careful. I want to wear it until the headache blinds me and I have to take it off.” He’s admitting things to her that he’s never admitted to anyone. Save Mimsy.

“But I’m scared of it too. With it on, it offers me a chance to be normal. And then takes it away when I take it off.” He looks at her, hair falling into his face. “That’s why it can’t be my choice. I need someone to help me with it. And as good a dog as Mimsy is, sometimes she’s not the greatest help.”