“The character I’m drawing is completely high,” I say, holding a small laugh.
“Oh, man… I hoped you went for the characterdreamingshe could fly,” he mumbles, pressing on the backspace key for what feels like five minutes.
“That story is going to be weird,” I chuckle. “You sure you’ll be able to publish it without people thinking you’re high yourself?”
“Of course, I will. I told you I’m making a short stories collection of all our storytelling sessions.”
Oh… That’s why he never seems to work long on those ideas… I thought he just gave up the stories after a couple of days.
“How many of them do you already have?” I ask, curious.
“About fifty, give or take? They’re all less than 10 pages long. I want to send it soon, with the illustrations you made.”
I perk up from my tablet. “Really? You think your agent will like it?”
“She definitely will. I’ve sent her about ten of them already. She loved the idea.” I straighten up from his bed in excitement. “The character I’m thinking about is obsessed with sunflowers.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble, excitement forgotten.
“What?”
“Sunflower, really?”
He shrugs. “Ireally like them. If I was a flower, that’s what I would be.”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you one day.”
I frown at my tablet like this woman personally wronged me before I shrug in defeat, and change the pattern of her loose dress to match the description. I also add a large yellow bed sheet attached to her shoulders, flying behind like a parachute, covered in sunflowers.
Her glasses are no longer butterfly-shaped either. If she’s obsessed, she might as well go all the way.
“How would you feel if I leave for a couple of days?” He asks casually.
I lift my head suddenly, the crazy high woman completely forgotten.
“A couple of days?”
“Yeah. Like a weekend or something.”
“A weekend,” I echo, staring at the back of his head.
“I’d like to spend some time with Ikram in another setting. Maybe go to his place?”
“And… He lives so far away you’d have to leave for acouple of days?”
He stops tapping on his keyboard but still doesn’t turn. The room feels silent without the sound of his writing, and the sudden tension in the air.
“Thought that I might sleep over.”
Sleep over. But what if something happens? What if he falls? Or his lungs or heart gives up suddenly? I won’t be there to help him…
“What happened to taking things slow?”
“I can sleep with someone without it leading to sex, Prue.”
“Well, Ikram’s welcome to sleep here, you know. You don’t have to go to his place.”
