Temporary Secretary

Part 29

20 April 1981

6:30am Monday

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You had woken up at six that morning. There was a guest bathroom for you to get ready in.

Once your alarm went off, it took you a second to realize where you were, confused for a moment.

Though you'd slept at Paul's house before, that had been in his bed.

It was fine enough a room, if not generic, the bed comfortable. A simple pattern on the duvet, and an unremarkable abstract painting on the wall, just to fill the space.

Your nausea in the morning was deteriorating at least.

Walking to the common area, it seemed Paul was already up, having coffee in the kitchen.

"Morning."

"Yeah."

You weren't much of a morning person, even before the ailment in question.

You couldn't have coffee anymore. Liked the smell, though.

You had to get up earlier, as it was a bit further to your job now.

You looked into the fridge. You'd do some shopping in the evening, as to not infringe on his supply.

"Mind if I have some toast?" You said.

This caused Paul to pause, and look at you strangely again.

"Course!" He said.

He walked to beside you, mug in hand, tilting his head. You turned to look at him, over the fridge door.

"You're not a lodger, yeah?" He said. "Just assume you're free to things. It's both our place now."

You smiled at him.

"Right, except I don't own it." You said, then mumbled. "And lodgers pay."

Paul's brows knit.

"Well, I invited you to live here." He said. "Especially when the kid comes. It makes the most sense to live altogether in one place."

Your gaze returned to the contents of the fridge, stern expression. What, you'd just live here until it was old enough to move out...? You were only thinking of the immediate future. Best thing to do, really.

But how long...? How long until you overstayed your welcome?

Once it was out, and a bit more self-sufficient, likely it'd be fine going between the two of you, if Paul was so committed to the idea. In the present moment though, you were rather interlocked with it.

You bent lower to get the bread, then made over to the toaster, pushing down the switch.

"You don't feel sick?" He said.

Your gaze remained on the bread.

"It was worse before... but I mostly just feel tired." You said. "Hear the first bit's the worst. Well... until the thing starts crowding my organs, of course."

Paul hummed, the comments passing him over.

"But then you start feeling it move!"

You turned to him, a tilt to your head.

"You seem to enjoy the process more than I do." You said huffily. "I'd gladly trade off."

You looked to your wristwatch. You frowned. You were already heavy headed from the early hour, and now Paul's needling.