THE FETISH CLUB

1.8

1.8

[akinesia]

Blue meadows. Cassettes. Roses extremely white, rare and fresh and appealing to eye. Lady bugs. French marigold. Saturday brunch. Kingdom of cards. Syringe. Love.

Like dust particles, they plagued my mind. I'm Alice ; I'm falling. I'm being hit. I'm hated. I'm growing. Uncharacteristic long neck, sizing up and down on zeroes, drugged. So I'm Alice. The wind plays a muffled tone, it's battling against the window panes. As soon as the drizzle touches ground, it releases petrichor, an odd English word. Coffee aroma accompanies. I hear voices. I stir.

"Where am I supposed to put this, this thermometer?"

...

..

.

"Up her ass, " a sarcastic speaker at that. "No, no. Mouth! I said mouth!"

.
..
...

"You needn't shout!"

My breathing is labored. I'm alive  — eye shut, half conscious alive. I can feel ice sticking under my skin.

"She has got fever!"

"..."

"Is it coma? Like, like fever coma? Aria, do something!"

Well, I can pretty much tell where I am. Except my forehead, everything else is burning. I taste a pointed object on my tongue. I wince. "Can you switch off the fans?" Aria - Ari Richelieu says flatly.

"But I'm hot!"

"Pipe down!"

"Okay!"

I feel a giggle die down my ribcage. Saylor is too pure for her own good.

Gradually, I force myself to rise. First propping over arms (which somebody rejects by slamming my body weight down) and then, when I make out specks of light, I am suddenly aware of the figures getting less and less blurrier. "Ari.. Saylor.."

Ari is dressed in denim overalls, frown painting lip, hands tucked inside pockets. "Easy there," and I mistake that for softness.

My insides grow a puddle as I realise Saylor holding a spatula, beside her ice bags and stuff. She's staring. "Nice apron," I say.

Her face heats up.

"Oh"

"Is the bag okay?"

I suddenly feel pampered. "It's lovely, Ari." I say which makes me more giddy, somehow. "Thank you"

In response, she's shrugging. Then, she gets off the bed end seat only to open the windows. For better ventilation. "I made you tea!" Perhaps, Saylor envied the small unspeakable exchange of a smile between us. Either way, she intervenes. Ari's hand technically hovers over hers. "Careful." The kettle's brimming with hot deliciousness.

In the end - Ari is the one who pours the cups.

I sip. "I panicked and called over Ari" overlaps with "Penny wanted me to check in case you're dead"

One at a time, ladies.

*

Ari Richelieu is sat by the desk. Yeah, I never saw one either. I guess they're upgrading. "Ari just loves coming here!"

Ari, reflexively, holds hands in mock surrender.

"Not my fault there's a mating season!"

"A what?" I say after letting out a chuckle. "Well," Saylor begins, "it's just something we say about Penny and Charles..."