Superhero.

Patricia walked her slow and steady pace on the sidewalk. New York City isn't the ideal place for blind people to roam but, after having her vision stolen, she refused to give up her favorite city as well. She traversed her route for the last seven years, ten months, and three days with the ease of any other able-bodied New Yorker. Today, however, her circumstances would change.

Jimmy, the produce boy at the Toe Shoe Market on the corner, watched Patricia's progress. He made his move out from behind his booth and to her side. She sensed his unfamiliar presence as he slowed his pace to match hers. "Hello?" Not wasting time, for time was too precious for Jimmy, he asked, "You have five seconds to decide." She tensed and he rushed on, "I can give you back your sight," he stated. "Yes or no." Her unseeing eyes widened but without hesitation she breathed, "Yes." Yes, it could just be a silly game but what if...

Her heart jumped as the fingers of her right hand were gently grasped. It started beating again as the sure hands cradled her own. She felt a strange warmth, even at his fingertips, and was comforted by that. Only rapists and thieves had cold, clammy hands. Right? The warmth grew until she felt her body tense with alarm. "Wait," Jimmy said, his voice slightly strained but softer still. Again, not the sound she associated with evil.

Slowly, light leaked into the pitch black.

Jimmy let go of her limp hand and watched it rise to her face. He stumbled a few feet away and braced himself against a nearby trash can, feeling weightless. He didn't care that the trash was piled high and close to his grip. He felt his body tighten and grow weary. He grew dizzy and trembled. He expected it and closed his eyes, waiting. After a moment, or what felt like an eternity, his body uncoiled and his shoulders relaxed. Some of his strength returned but not completely. He had lost a little more of that precious time. His gift, the result of a freak and unexplainable mutation, gave him an incredible ability to control the physiology of the world around him. The price, however ironic, was that it stole a little bit of his life each time. He was a 20-year-old in a middle-aged man's body.

He looked at the deliriously smiling woman and felt no bitterness at what comic book characters wail about. This? A curse? Psh. He shook his head at the pessimism of so-called superheroes, clearing the last bit of the fuzzies, and stood a little straighter. As the woman shifted her blurry gaze towards him, he turned and lazily jogged back to his booth. The owner of the market stood there, arms crossed, frowning. As Jimmy approached, the larger man held out his arms in frustrated expectation, "Whadahell, Jim-meh?" His accent thick.

Jimmy half-smiled and shrugged noncommittally, "Had to get her number, man." The owner crooked an eyebrow and grunted, walking away. Who was he to trample on a man's mojo? Good for the boy. 'Bout time that kid gets laid, anyway. Why, back in his day...

Left alone, Jimmy looked back across the street, eyes searching. Patricia was holding a cell phone, alternating between gazing at it with fascination and putting it back up to her ear to excitedly scream at the person on the other end. His hands reached out and grabbed a cantaloupe from the cart to put on display. His knuckles ached slightly but the discomfort was soothing to his mind. It was proof that he had made a difference. He had made the world a better place.