' i died. '
i died ; you can’t tell if it’s a statement or a question, be it because you’re still in the haze of sleep or because they are words you’re unused to hearing. either way, you don’t have anything prepared for her. but you shift in her direction anyway, roll from your back - where you’ve been awhile, because you had insisted you should stay until she woke - to your side. you can’t see much, actually, the moon clouded over as it is, but it’s the effort that counts ( you’ve been told so, anyway ), so you give it, even if it is only little, sluggish. she’d be able to see your brow furrow if she would look at you ; which, she doesn’t very often, especially not when they talk-talk. which might bother you, but the thing here is that you all almost always die, mostly. your mortality becomes more obvious by the day, has become a problem lately. her’s though . . . you don’t know if any of you had considered it until the day before. so it’s different, then, as far as you can figure ( not everyone chokes it down, you remind yourself ; not everyone is like you ). you’re sorta glad she doesn’t look, now.
& maybe you should have mulled over what to say? seems sorta like the thing you shouldn’t be winging, but here you are. ‘ nah, you just slept, ’ these words are given quietly, slow, as though you have given them thought at all; you’re just telling the truth. it’s lacking gusto, but it doesn’t catch in your throat, so that’s good. still isn’t going much smoother than going back to sleep would’ve. ‘ and it gave you that like . . . well-rested look & all. never seen it on you before, ’ a shrug, as well as one can from their side. ‘ s’good. healthy. y’should do it more. ’
@roadthrived.