My Dear Laurens (Lams)

A. Hamilton

As Laurens loaded his pistol and ranted about Lee's misdoings, Alexander found the opposite of solace in his thoughts. Laurens was about to duel Lee. Lee is pathetic, wimpy, cowardly, and frail. There is no way Lee could win this duel.

Laurens is brave, strong, impulsive, and die-hard for the cause. Also, a fantastic shot. There is no way Laurens could lose this duel. Laurens must know that, considering his bubbling confidence as he pointed his pistol in front of him, closing neither his left nor right eye, and making a small "pew" sound as he kept his finger off the trigger. His smile was clever and sharp. He knew exactly how this duel would end. There was no doubt or uncertainty in his eyes. His body language did not cower under the thoughts of a duel. A duel with the possibility of death.

Alexander did not consider himself an anxious man. Not anxious, fearful, paranoid, or concerned when there was no cause to be. He trusted Laurens' marksmanship. He trusted Laurens to win, and he trusted Lee to lose.

But.

But there was a feeling. It was small and lonesome. It crept into Alexander's mind with short, spindly legs. Like a tiny spider. Its mouth was too small to bite anything, and even if it tried to cause harm it could not. You could barely feel it crawling on your arm. On your shoulder, the back of your neck, your earlobe, and inside your ear, into your brain. Almost non-existent. But you could feel it. You wanted to smack it away, but you couldn't see it. You wanted to scratch, but it left no mark it was ever there. Why would you scratch when nothing was itching you?

This thought was unwelcome because its minuscule presence toppled Alexander's composure. It pricked exactly the right spot, and Alexander was sent into a frenzy. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin. Nausea begged to overtake him, but he resisted. He resisted the pain in his temples, but not in his stomach. He had no power there. It was like his stomach had disappeared. Can that happen? Can your stomach just remove itself from your body?

Well, the obvious answer is no. My stomach is there. I'm nervous for no reason because Laurens will be fine. Nothing bad will happen to him.

So, Alexander sat down. They were in Alexander and Laurens' tent awaiting the medics to arrive, Lee's second to be chosen, and a place to be picked for their duel. Also, Lee needed some time to grab his things, so Laurens and Alexander prepared in their tent. Laurens had stopped talking after a while and sat on a tree stump next to the broken cots. He sat and he pondered. He breathed in and out, and Alexander tried to use this pleasant sound to calm himself. He didn't even need to be calmed down, by the way, this was just for fun... or something.

Alexander hadn't moved from his place. He still stood in one spot. Contemplating with the best person available. Himself, or better known as "it," "insect," "parasite," "virus," or "that thing." The voice that plagued him the night of his wedding. The one who Alexander hated.

You should tell him how you feel.

It doesn't make any sense to do that. He's going to survive. Besides, I have to tell Eliza my feelings first.

You're right. You should wait until Laurens makes a mistake in the duel, and dies. Then, you can go back to Eliza, tell her how you feel, come back to Laurens' rotting corpse, and console him in the afterlife. Good thinking.

Laurens is a capable shot. I have faith in him.

As you should. You're his friend, he deserves to be with someone who has faith in him. Unless he never gets that because Lee gets a lucky shot and kills Laurens. That would be fun, wouldn't it? Imagine watching it all happen with all that wonderful confidence you have. Imagine him pointing his gun and firing, but being a second too late. Then, Laurens falls with blood trickling down his pretty face, and you get to see Lee rejoicing. Lee wins. Laurens loses. You lose. You never get to be happy; Laurens never gets to be happy. It's really a great turn of events.