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Blind from birth and sheltered by well-meaning parents, Allison does her best to flout their protective measures. She frequently wanders out on her own to explore, though a minor disaster that left her stranded in an unknown neighborhood for an hour has left her a little more cautious than she used to be. She's helped in her endeavors by her best friend, Connie, acquired during the aforementioned diaster. These days she knows the layout of her neighborhood and its environs better than her parents.

Sample:
"Hey, so what are we doing today?"

"Ugh, I don't know. I just feel like lying here today."

They had found this particular patch of sunlight in an abandoned lot not far from Allison's house, where a pile of dirt had been relocated and forgotten. It now played host to grass and weeds and a pair of teenage girls, one of whom was plucking up blade after blade and tossing them lazily into the air.

"Fair enough." Connie blew another blade of grass into the air, and it fluttered down to land on her friend's face.

Allison swatted it away and made a face. "Is it cloudy today?"

Connie squinted at the sky, where the sun was pounding enthusiastically down on them both. "Does it feel cloudy to you?"

"Not really."

"I mean, there are some scraps maybe, but nothing particularly, well, impressive."

"What's the sun look like?" It was a question she asked fairly regularly, interested by how the description managed to differ from day to day.

"Round, yellow."

Except on the days when Connie was feeling particularly lazy.

"Connie."

"It's really bright," her friend added after a moment. "The yellow's uh ... bolder than usual, I guess. Ugh, it's so hot."

Allison mulled that over, tilting her face up to better feel the heat radiating down from the sky. "Okay," she said after a moment, sitting up and letting her fingers drop to feel the tickling blades of grass.

She'd spent a lot of time on colors, frustrated and fascinated at once, and finally settled for associating each with a sensation. She hadn't yet decided on one for green, though, and the rough, scratchy grass wasn't a sensation she particularly liked.

"Hey, I'll make you a daisy chain," her friend said, and she felt her scramble upright and pound off in search of flowers.

The sun, though, she did. Yellow was warm and comfortable. It meant lazy days with Connie, exploring the neighborhood and messing around. She flopped back in the grass with a sleepy sigh.

"Hurry up, or I'll fall asleep," she called after her.