Her fingertips brushed the surface of her eyeball, but didn’t catch the edge of the lends. She blinked, and tried again—left thumb and forefinger prying open her eyelids, right thumb and forefinger trying to catch the edges of the contact and pinch it off. Dark brown iris staring straight at the mirror, witnessing its own assault. Her fingertips were dry. So was her eye. Not a pleasant combination.

The third attempt was successful; a little more pressure, trying not to scratch the sensitive flesh that is the eyeball. She blinked and her tears stung.

Now for the left one.