The Chosen.

Not So Mundane

It's been a week since we made it to the commune, each day getting more familiar and comfortable than the last. We were given assigned chores, every one does their part in keeping the community running. Mia was assigned to work with the nurse, not surprisingly. Zeke found his contentment doing physical labor like moving beds or lifting things for the ladies that work in the kitchen. Tom and I both got stuck with cleaning, which i felt like was a terrible idea. 1. because we both hate cleaning, 2. because if you stick us together for a long period of time we are either going to end up laughing, making out, or hitting each other. All three things happening multiple times each day already.

I've learned the leader's name is Ruth. Pretty fitting if i'm being honest. Ruth gave a welcome speech the night after our arrival at dinner. Rules were once again gone over to make us strangers aware of the regulations. Just your basic common sense bullshit, no violence, do your part yada yada, all sightings of figures are to be reported immediately, the third wing is off limits, and treat others with respect. Of course the part talking about what is off limits to me is what intrigues me the most.

Every day during my cleaning routine, my eyes are taunted by the doors that separate us and wing number 3. Tom usually catches my gaze silently chastising me. I think he likes it here, he hasn't seemed to want to do anything to risk getting thrown out. Coming into this whole thing i anticipated he was the one i was going to have to worry about, turns out it's me. I can't help but to be curious what lies beyond those locked doors. I say locked because, yes i have checked.

The endless scenarios of what is hidden back there run through my mind all day. Zombies, piles of dead bodies, the Vatican, an infinite supply of cheeseburgers, and monkeys are a few of the ones i have come to appreciate from my imagination. Though none of them logical, i still think each of them would be interesting to see.

Nighttime has become my favorite part of the day. Either lying in bed with Tom or sneaking away to a different room every night i can't help but to feel so content. The tiny mundane things seem so exciting with him. Simply brushing my teeth in the morning next to him gives me such an indescribable joy. We usually begin our nights lying in bed holding each other as we talk about anything and everything together. Once we notice the sounds of snores and repetitive breathing we sneak away, giggling hand in hand, like a couple of teenagers in high school.

Ever since we got stoned and talked things through our first night here, things have been... different. Mostly in a good way i would have to say. Tom's touch has been gentler like it was when we first met and i have become to accept that more. I think what i struggle with most is the fact that gentle touches remind me so much of Bill and his intense but delicate love for me. Bill being my first everything really fucked up my brain when he died. For that reason, when Tom touches me softly i can't help but to be reminded of his brother.

Tom and i have come to find ourselves united in our grief for Bill. It's effortless how we don't have to explain things to each other, it's just understood. When certain triggers arise for either of us, the other one is already prepared and knows how to handle it. In the mix of all my grief and confusion i've come to find that i think i'm falling in love with Tom.