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January 2019 #592

(My visit wakes H up and gives him a coughing fit)

Me: You okay?

H:
No.

Me: What can I do?

H:
(bloody coughing fit that he uses his sleeve to cover) …Forgive me, that was indelicate.

Me: It’s not like you had much choice. Has it been like that all
night?

H:
Yes. I didn’t sleep much.

Me: Bourbon?

H:
Yes please. …Thank you.

Me: I didn’t sleep well either and had very strange dreams for
the hour or so I slept.

H:
Tell me.

Me: There were toy
soldiers that wanted to kill people. I had to catch them and smash their heads
against the floor until the top of their heads caved and that deactivated them.
In another dream I was sleeping on the street; I looked at my watch and it said
‘35:42’ and I thought ‘urgh, that’s the worst time of night – I’ll never sleep
now!’. What about you – did you dream?

H:
Yes… The usual. Ash and sorrow on the wind… and drowning.

Me: Did you go riding
yesterday?

H:
Yes, for all the good it’s served me.

Me: That seems unjust.

H:
(coughing) Consumption is.

Me: What will you do?

H:
Dress, if I can keep my feet. Stay by the stove. Write
perhaps.

Me: Should I let you get back
to sleep? You look exhausted.

H:
(coughing) No. How (coughing) how will you spend your time?

Me: Working on the
editorial. I did two commission drawings yesterday instead – they took all damn
day. I was rather hoping Kal would say something nice about them, but he
didn’t.

H:
Do you need his approval?

Me: Approval’s a funny
thing. If I’m not pleased with my work, I want approval but won’t believe it.
If I’m pleased then I don’t need approval but I’ll start to doubt my ability if
it’s not given. Same with my appearance really.

H:
O darlin’. Whatever am I to do with you?

Me: Dunno. Tell me what
you think of the drawings when they’re done?

H:
Certainly.

Me: No flattery though.

H:
(coughing) I haven’t the breath. …Do you see my case?

Me: …Here. Poor thing was
on the floor.

H:
Must have fell from my pocket.

Me: (holding the candle out for H to light his cigarette from:
it wavers, shrinking to the side before recovering and growing fat on the plume
of smoke he huffs at it) …Do you need a hand to feed the kits?

H:
Thank you, no (coughing) I’ll manage.

Me: You gonna eat
breakfast?

H:
You look concerned.

Me: Nah, it’s how I
usually look at you: you’re beautiful, you’re an idiot, don’t die.

H:
(coughing, wryly amused) A little late for that darlin’.

Me: We’re both very aware
of the difference between dead, and dead and gone.

H:
(coughing, resigned) Yes.

Me: Love you H. Look
after yourself.

H: Love you girl.

Source: Tales of Necromancy

by cnkguy
January 2019 #592

Posted in Tales of Necromancy and tagged by with no comments yet.

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