My Dear Laurens (Lams)

H. Mulligan

What emotion, what feeling can cause someone to do unimaginable acts unprecedented in their normal behavior? What can infect a usually civil man or woman like a disease until they are willing to lie, cheat, steal, and even murder, to get what they need?

Everyone has been plagued by this detestable feeling before. Not a single human person can escape its wrath forever. It is one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse.

I'm sure you can guess what, or who, now.

The horseman in love with the Snickers phrase, "you're not you when you're hungry."

Famine.

This horseman haunted Hercules Mulligan at the crisp hour of eight-thirty in the morning. He awoke with one thought on his mind.

Where is Laurens?

At seven-thirty to eight o'clock, every morning since Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan had been holed up in the bed and breakfast of New York, Laurens had gotten up at seven to awaken his friends with breakfast either in his hands, on their writing desk, or downstairs ready to be served themselves. Even if this morning was a morning Mulligan and Lafayette would do the hard work on their own, Laurens would have still come to both of their rooms and ripped them away from their peaceful sleep.

Mulligan may have always expressed a disgruntled and nonplussed attitude every morning that Laurens opened his curtains to blind him out of bed, but he still appreciated the thoughtfulness Laurens had for him. Especially because he also knew that Laurens was even less thrilled by the morning than him.

Laurens cared for his companions with a compassion Mulligan had never seen in another person. While Lafayette came in a close second, Laurens outshone every competitor with bright eyes and an honest smile.

Therefore, this morning's lack of a punctual Laurens left Mulligan disturbed.

He carelessly dressed himself and walked out of his room. A dreamless sleep tempted his half-open eyes and yawning mouth, yet Mulligan prevailed. He would always be victorious against his oppressors no matter the squall.

The floor whined under his heavy, reckless steps. He had to place a hand on the hallway's right wall to steady himself. He stalked through the empty passage hoping not to wake anyone in the process but failed. A door to his left creaked as it opened. Mulligan froze, waiting for whoever's head would pop out from behind the door until he remembered whose door that belonged to. And just as he remembered, a poofy-haired, hungover Lafayette peered in Mulligan's direction.

"I thought you were Laurens coming to give me food and companionship, but instead I find an oak tree standing before me," Lafayette squinted at Mulligan. "Why are you sneaking around the halls, Mulligan?"

Mulligan thawed and walked over to Lafayette, who wore nothing but a thin white sheet.

"It's eight-thirty and Laurens hasn't come to my room yet, so I was gonna go to his room and see what he was doing."

Lafayette hummed and looked to his right.

"Okay, you've convinced me. I'll come with you."

"You're naked. You know that, right?"

Mulligan narrowed his eyes at his friend's poor excuse for a covering.

"Just because it isn't conventional, doesn't mean it doesn't work." He shuffled into the hallway, holding his sheet, wrapped around his shoulders, up to his neck. "Now, let's go check in on our little Laurens."

Mulligan groaned and rolled his eyes. Despite his irritated condition, he trudged over to Laurens' door and knocked. Lafayette stood directly behind him as they patiently waited for an answer. Well, I say patiently to put it nicely, but Mulligan did not share a tempered feeling in any way when he knocked for a second time.