Mulled Vine

I have a pair of rose-tinted glasses, through which the world looks lighter and brighter, more hopeful than the place I am used to. I bought them from a street vendor in Notting Hill, a smiling, dark-skinned fellow with filthy dreadlocks – he said they would bring me much happiness.

I asked him why he did not wear them himself, but he just beamed and, pointing to his eyes, replied, “Laser surgery, man.”

I was immediately envious, and watched as the tint faded away from my new glasses.