She was sitting on a mound of flower petals, crying out of one eye because, she said, she couldn’t find her other eye. She had taken it out to do something and it must have rolled away.
K didn’t like to see people in pain: Take one of my eyes, he said, climbing to join her atop the mound of flower petals. He gave her his right eye because she was still in possession of her left one, from which tears stopped falling in light of K’s generosity. She said thank you. K smiled in return. Take this as a token of my appreciation, she said, as she dislodged her rightfully-owned left eye to extract a handful of rods and cones. Popping her eye back in, she handed them over to K. He smiled again: Would you like to have dinner with me?
Later that night, they ate her rods and cones for dinner. They drank glass and lit their clothes on fire. I would like to disappear into your empty eye socket, she said romantically. K was moved, but also worried. She would find her missing eye in there. Then he would have some explaining to do.