Environmental exposure, cold temperatures, bad weather, comfort, minor wound care, implied homelessness, implied past trauma
Masterpost | | Next
Vera wasn’t going to let some little ‘storm of the century’ get in the way of her weekly grocery shopping. The kind but anxious cashier recommended she wait it out inside the shop; it wasn’t safe to be outside. But Vera only lived a few blocks from the corner shop and she had walked through worse.
The winds were relentless, whipping the rain - and possibly some small hail - like bullets through the air. Thunder roared and lightning crackled, but she plodded along, cane in hand and footsteps sure.
Her pace only faltered when she saw someone else out on the street. Her first instinct was to hypocritically chide them - what in heavens name would someone be doing outside in weather like this? But upon closer inspection, and wiping some rain from her thick rimmed glasses, her brow furrowed with concern.
“Are you…alright?”
They didn’t look alright. Their face was gaunt, eyes hollow, but even curled up at the cusp of the alleyway Vera could tell they were well fed and well built. Like something out of the magazines she enjoyed in her youth. Except their hair was cropped short, their black shirt and pants and socks soaked through - for heaven’s sake, they weren’t even wearing shoes!
“Young man,” Vera would apologize later if she had made a mistake, but the sight of them reminded her all too much of the boys she once taught. “Who in the blazes let you out of the house dressed like that?”
His head snapped up at the question, eyes wide and wild and for a split second Vera felt afraid of this stranger, but not as afraid as he was of her.
“M - ma’am?” He was shivering and Vera only felt warmer with anger at the sight of him. She was bundled in layers and a waterproof poncho and still she was miserably damp and cold. This young man must have been on the verge of hypothermia.
She sighed and held out a waterlogged bag of groceries. Vera didn’t miss how he flinched from the gesture.
“I - I can’t take that, ma’am - ”
“I don’t want you to take it. I want you to help me carry it home.” She tilted her head, studying his reaction. “Unless you’d rather a little old lady like me slog through - ”
“No ma’am. I can carry it.” He shot up to his feet and it was Vera’s turn to flinch. She could tell he was a large man when he was curled up like a soggy kitten, but seeing him tower over her was still a bit surprising. He could see her reaction and his shoulders sagged, curling forward as he held out a shaking hand. Vera gave him a determined look and handed him the groceries.
“This way.”
—
Her apartment wasn’t very far - barely a block from where she picked up this stranger, but she counted herself lucky she bumped into him. The weather was getting worse, and she started to doubt she would have made it home with all her groceries in tow if she had walked by herself. She unlocked her house, a thin sliver of the city block bought with the blood sweat and tears of her younger years.
“You can set those right there on the carpet - here, let me get you a towel.” Vera started shedding her own soaked layers, eventually reaching her relatively dry sweater and slacks. The young man stood awkwardly in the doorway, cautiously setting the groceries down on the entryway carpet. “Don’t just stand there with the door open; get in here.”
Vera heard the door close while she was dragging a towel out of the hallway closet. He looked even more out of place in her foyer, a shivering giant that looked oddly fragile. She softened her smile when she held out the towel.
“Here, try to dry off enough you won’t drip. I’ll find some clothes you can borrow.”
He slowly began to wipe off his face and arms, movements stiff.
“I, uh,” his voice was hoarse and low, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to speak, “I should be going…”
“In this weather? I won’t let you. At least not without a warm shower, change of clothes, and some tea.” Vera stood with had hands on her hips, blocking the doorway behind him. She was well aware how easily he could leave if he wanted to. And so was he.
Vera almost took it as a small victory when he took a step deeper into her home, but then she noticed the tension in his body language. She came up beside him, the start of a question on her tongue when his arm lashed out - not hurting her, but guarding her from moving forward. His face was pensive, eyes scanning the hallway with a trained precision -
He didn’t move a muscle when Vera’s old calico stalked around the corner, tail twitching and a soft mhurp acknowledging its owner had returned. Vera patted the young man’s arm, and he slowly lowered his guard.
“That’s just Mimi. Here girl!”
The cat perked at the sound of her name, bounding over to its owner. Vera could feel the man in front of her shy away from the small cat, but the tension in his shoulders was slowly uncoiling.
“Tsk, get out of the groceries, you sneaky kitty.” Vera shooed her beloved cat away, picking up a bag. The young man grabbed the rest almost automatically, following her to the kitchen table.
After directing her guest to the bathroom and finding an ancient pair of sweats and a sweater that might fit his physique, Vera set about putting away groceries and putting the kettle on for some tea. Mimi danced around her feet, ever hopeful for a treat.
With the last of the groceries put away, Vera began cleaning up after the stranger. She had instructed him to leave his soaked clothes outside the bathroom door, and he had.
The fabric of his clothes was strange, a rubbery grip to the material almost like a wetsuit. Unsure if they would survive in the dryer, Vera hung them up by the fireplace. (The electric mimic was still warm, even if Vera missed the smell of a real wood stove.) She shuddered to think how miserably cold he must have been in such thin, uninsulated clothes. From the sound of the water rushing on the other side of the door, she hoped he was enjoying a warm shower.
She noticed he had also left the towel she had first given him outside the door, and there she noticed the blood. Not a lot, just a thin splotch of red. Maybe he had cut himself shaving his hair so close to his head. Vera set out the first aid kit on the table as she poured two teacups of steaming water.
Her guest had perfect timing; just as the tea finished steeping, he shambled out of the bathroom. He looked even more out of place in the soft, patterned sweater and ill fitting sweats, eyes so unsure as he approached the kitchen. He was looking at the first aid kit.
“Come’ere. Let me have a look at that cut.” Vera gestured to a chair she had already pulled out from the table, and he guest immediately sat. She could now see the thin slice at the base of his skull. Probably an accident with the razor, one edge clean and the other sloppy, as though the pain had startled him. “Nasty gash. Though I think you’ll avoid stitches. Let me get some antibiotic ointment on that though…”
He sat stock still as she inspected and dabbed ointment on the wound. His face was flat, but she could see his hands gripping the armrests in pain.
“You allergic to any meds, honey?”
“No, ma’am.”
Vera set some ibuprofen next to his teacup and began to put away the first aid kit.
“No need to ‘ma’am’ me, sweetheart. Not a fan of it. My name is Vera.” It was then she realized this stranger at her table hadn’t told her his name. “And you are?”
He hadn’t answered by the time she settled into her chair. When she looked up his eyes were wide, staring into his still steaming tea.
“Honey?” His head jerked up as if hearing her for the first time. “How about you drink some of that tea?”
“Yes, m - miss.” That timid voice of his finally stuttered, shaking hands taking the small, fragile cup. Vera just smiled softly and watched him.
An antarctic researcher has been left for dead, stranded in a blizzard, by her bigoted coworkers. She seeks shelter in an ice cave, and finds something generating heat. Something alive.
—
Today’s campaign:
Esraa Al-Kafarna, from GazaVetters. (#64)
$98,766/$110,000 [90%]
A Mother’s Plea for Her Children in Gaza
My name is Esraa Al-Ka… Esraa Al-kafarna needs your support for Help a Mother and His Children
My backyard currently has 17 inches of snow on it! It’s 20 degrees F. Earlier this morning I was able to throw boiling water in the air and it vaporated due to the 12 degrees temp with a windchill of -6.
Today’s high is 26. It was crisp and clear, the kind of winter weather where I could bear an early morning walk, as long as I kept my skin from exposure.
Returning home, I rubbed my eye and felt ... texture.
I looked in the mirror and literally, actually had icicles on my eyelashes. Tiny little crystals of ice had formed!!!! Likely from breathing into my scarf, the condensation probably moved up and by the time it contacted my lash, boom. Icicle accessories.
