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Here's a tiny snippet from both the first- and third-person perspective versions of Synesthesia. I'd greatly appreciate it if someone would tell me which version sounds better.

First Person

Grilled cheese sandwiches are great on a day like today. Hell, they're great any day. My fiancée, Erin, is in the shower, so I set the table, deliberately putting the placemats on upside down. She hates that.
As I put the sandwiches on our plates I notice something on the counter; a letter. It's addressed to Erin, but it's open. Nothing usually comes for her. I don't remember getting this out of the mailbox, either.
I leave the letter alone. I can just ask her when she gets out of the shower. She usually doesn't go out in public without being clean and pretty. Then again, she's pretty whether she's clean or not.
A few minutes later, she's out of the shower. She sits next to me with her hair still in the towel, though it dries faster than mine; hers being shorter and all. She flips the placemats immediately after sitting, but doesn't react with her normal play-fight. She looks at me, her eyes still happy, but vacant.

"It has to be horrible not reacting with the world." Erin says, staring out the windshield at the handicapped sign in front of our car. I turn the key and look over at her. She's clearly bothered by something more than just her mother being in this asylum, but she won't tell me until I guess it. I have no leads, so I don't ask. I drive to the bank, taking every side road I can think of. I can hear all the big machines running on the major roads. Damn construction season.

I see flashes of red, coming as fast as the ones on a lighthouse, and each one illuminates something...nearly formless. I'm not sure what it is. I think it's human. Yes, it's shaped like a face, but...those details are off. All I can see are eyes and a mouth. The rest looks so...strange and...curved.

Third Person

Grilled cheese sandwiches, Jack thinks, are perfect on a day like today. He has already set the table and his fiancée is in the shower. Hell, they’re perfect any day. He makes sure that at least one placemat is upside-down so the wrong color is showing because he knows how much his fiancée hates it.
As he puts the sandwiches on the plates, he notices something on the counter; a letter. It’s addressed to Erin, his fiancée, and it’s already been opened. Nothing usually comes for her. I don’t think I took this out of the mailbox, either. He leaves the letter on the counter and makes a mental note to ask her about it.
A few minutes later, she comes out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her hair. She flips the placemats over instinctively upon sitting down, but doesn’t react with her usual play-fight. She looks at him with vacant but happy eyes.

"It has to be horrible not reacting with the world." Erin says, staring out the windshield at the handicapped sign in front of the car. Jack turns the key and looks over at her. She's clearly bothered by something more than just her mother being in this asylum, but she’s hiding whatever it is. He has no leads, so he doesn't ask. He drives to the bank, taking every side road he can think of. They can both hear all the big machines running on the major roads. Damn construction season.

He can see flashes of red, coming as fast as the ones on a lighthouse, and each one illuminates something...nearly formless. I think…it's human. Yes, it's shaped like a face, but...those details are off. All I can see are eyes and a mouth. The rest looks so...strange and...curved.



And yes, I know these are bad examples, but I haven't really accomplished much in my rewrite. Also, they are randomly selected, so stuff happens between them ^_^