He Learned the Gestures

Mood: Melted. There is no other word for it. There is a practiced but familiar rhythm to my life that usually only I can hear. It is the rapid-fire thwip-thwip-click of a screen reader, the frantic, synthetic heartbeat of my phone as I navigate the world at five hundred words per minute. To anyone else, it sounds like a droid having a panic attack. To me, it is just the sound of access. I know…