This is a short story for
pluralstories that I found in the sci-fi library, in an apparently impossible-to-find anthology called
WomanSpace: Future and Fatnasy: Stories and Art by Women. It came from New Victoria Publishers, a long-shuttered feminist press. While digging around in the library archives, I stumbled upon it, and it's short enough that I decided to type it up here for plural posterity.
Maraby Lois Metzger
I don't wear glasses, but I put them on. My mother's face was a blurry haze; her clothes were without detail, only color.
"Please give them back," she said. I took off the glasses and saw clear gray eyes and white hair. My mother was sixty-two.
"You won't cause any trouble?" sh said.
I listened and heard nothing. "No trouble," I said.
My mother cried. Mara told me a story:
On my world people don't cry: their skin changes color. When they're happy they look yellow or red; when they're sad they turn dark blues and greens.