Reverence - Book 2

- 23 -

It's been unabashedly miserable at best. 

I had spent the better half of my evening lying on paper thin sheets, waiting in a too full emergency room. 

At some point between the melodical lull of calling lights and the near constant prattle of sickness and despair, I had fallen into a restless sleep, only to be awoken by the harsh jab of a stern fingers into my swollen skin. 

I had sat up, jerking my injured self back from the brazen doctor, who's tired green eyes were heavy with the burden of care. 

As he murmured about how unfortunate my foot had looked, he grasped it in his skilled hand and gave it a slight jar to the left, the bone slipping correctly into its joint. 

I had been out before my head hit the paltry pillow. 

From there, I was saddled into a heavy bootie and given a messily written script for hefty pain killers. 

And like a weary mother, I was nudged eagerly out of my little cot, bill clutched tightly in my juvenile beak. 

Svetlana had kindly taken me back to my abode, depositing me fruitfully on the couch before returning back to her own bed. 

Now, it was just me staring disdained at this clunky black cage around my wings. 

I looked willfully at the orange bottle of pills beside me, my stomach gurgling hopefully at it's emptiness. 

I didn't want to take these. It meant accepting the reality of my brokenness. 

There was a feeble knock on my door and I turned the willingness to it now. 

What a time to not be plagued by telekinesis. 

Struggling, I came to my feet, arms swiveling to maintain my balance. 

The knock came again. 

"Just a moment." 

I breathed, grasping the edge of my coffee table. I felt like I was walking through cold honey. The burn crept back up my muscles, and the tilt-a-whirl sickness started in my stomach. 

I was over this. 

My stomach growled at the promise of breakfast that was so eagerly close behind that door. I could nearly taste he paper mug of Jade tea held awkwardly in some slumps hand, aggravated that they had to be awake at such an ungodly hour to cater to the hobbled. 

With triumph, my fingers closed around the knob and I swung open the door, greeting my stranger with a veracious grin. 

But there was no tidy white bag of takeaway and a shuffling delivery boy waiting to get out of my hallway. I wanted to be disappointed, but I couldn't be. No, not in this moment. 

Instead there was, 

 "Imelda?"