A Collection Of Michael Gray Imagines

Mind, Body and Soul

Laying on the sofa, you watch how some of the embers from the wood fire fly up the chimney and how some fall down and burn out on the floor. Your head rests on a pillow with your hand propping it up underneath it.

You were tired and almost drifting off into sleep — so tired, in fact, that you didn't have the energy to make dinner. You yawned and held your hand up to your mouth; you'd been waiting for Michael for what seemed like hours but you knew he'd be back soon.

Polly had popped by to make sure that you were okay, she brought some food with her, knowing that you didn't always have the best appetite and that you wouldn't eat if you didn't feel like it.

The door had swung open and closed shut with a light thud when she entered. Having never given Polly a key you assumed Michael had, or she had done it herself. It wasn't something you were opposed to, it was just that sometimes you may want to be alone.

Padding through the house, she found you in the pantry staring at all of the food in there, not really knowing what to do with it.

"Oh, you're up," she began, "I thought you might still be asleep. I was going to prepare some mid-afternoon snacks for us."

Arms crossed against your chest, you slowly turned on the heel of your shoe, facing her with a smile. You leant up against the door frame and watched Polly as she got out all of the ingredients from her basket, preparing the as she went.

"You've brought a lot with you, today, Pol," you say.

"Nonsense. I couldn't find half of the things I wanted for us when I was in the market this morning," Polly takes a moment to regard you, "what did you have for dinner last night, love?"

You shrug your shoulders, "I think it was some leftover stew. Michael left in the afternoon and I didn't want to cook."

Polly's eyes narrow and her body stiffens yet her hands keep preparing the food, "Michael left the day before last, love..." a moment of silence passes between the two of you, "are you sleeping well?"

You wince, knowing that you must've missed a lot more than you thought you had.

"Ah, not so... well," you manage to force out.

Polly suggested you lay down for a bit and that's where you'd been ever since. She'd left a small plate of food for you to eat and left soon after, saying that she needed to go check on the others.

Glancing over at the accent table now, you saw the plate, untouched and your stomach growled. You didn't respond to it, you merely put your head back down on the pillow and drifted off into sleep again — you didn't feel like eating in this big old empty room alone.

For two hours or so, you drift in and out of sleep, at one point you sat upright and went to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen but almost instantly felt sick and retreated to your bedroom, hoping for it to calm you down. Admittedly, somewhere inside you, you knew this wasn't the best approach but you hated how you looked in the mirror some days. At one point, you'd made Michael move a gorgeous floor-length mirror you had loved at the time from your bedroom into the guest room as you hated having to see yourself in it every time you walked past it.

You just didn't feel right. Some days you could brave pointing out things you were going to improve on, others, you poked and pinched yourself, pointing out flaws that made you hate the way you looked. You didn't feel like you anymore — and that was the hardest part.

Eventually, you woke up, feeling the bed dip as Michael sat in front of you and learnt down to kiss you on your forehead. He brushed your hair away from your face and kissed you softly. You assumed he was trying to not wake you up.