Come and whisper in my ear...
WHO: The Vicar (Marić) and the Washwoman (Sollomovici)
WHERE: Abode Unsanitarium
WHEN: Thursday morning, 4 AM
WHAT: ...it's Thursday.
This was merely the necessary fulfillment of a prior obligation.
He had no wish to be here and when the HELL would Marić learn to lock his door? (And he was also running out of coffee filters...)
It was all quiet on the western front but for the soft snoring he already expected and the gradual (and unnoticeable to any eyes but Ion's) increase of mess (also expected and for the moment, disregarded because really) littered...everywhere. It was some small measure of relief to see that most of the laundry he'd gathered into the hamper at his last 'visit' had stayed there and the majority of another week's dirty laundry had found its way inside as well. His own shirt was in there somewhere, but...
He hefted the hamper up and rested it on his hip while trying to remember what he'd forgotten.
...ah.
The bedroom door slid open. Marić seemed to be sleeping pleasantly enough, probably dreaming of some sort of strange algebraic erotica involving a compass, a protractor being used creatively, and finding the end of pi to...have it all come to an end, so to speak.
If he were dreaming of such a thing, Marić was to be rudely interrupted (as were his downstairs neighbors) when he hit the floor with a loud bang.
Ion stared down at him expressionlessly, the linens he'd pulled from the mattress heaped high in his arms. The quiet "good morning" was likely lost in the sounds of rustling fabric as he turned and left, letting the Serbian adjust to being very suddenly awake at 4:07 in the morning.
WHERE: Abode Unsanitarium
WHEN: Thursday morning, 4 AM
WHAT: ...it's Thursday.
This was merely the necessary fulfillment of a prior obligation.
He had no wish to be here and when the HELL would Marić learn to lock his door? (And he was also running out of coffee filters...)
It was all quiet on the western front but for the soft snoring he already expected and the gradual (and unnoticeable to any eyes but Ion's) increase of mess (also expected and for the moment, disregarded because really) littered...everywhere. It was some small measure of relief to see that most of the laundry he'd gathered into the hamper at his last 'visit' had stayed there and the majority of another week's dirty laundry had found its way inside as well. His own shirt was in there somewhere, but...
He hefted the hamper up and rested it on his hip while trying to remember what he'd forgotten.
...ah.
The bedroom door slid open. Marić seemed to be sleeping pleasantly enough, probably dreaming of some sort of strange algebraic erotica involving a compass, a protractor being used creatively, and finding the end of pi to...have it all come to an end, so to speak.
If he were dreaming of such a thing, Marić was to be rudely interrupted (as were his downstairs neighbors) when he hit the floor with a loud bang.
Ion stared down at him expressionlessly, the linens he'd pulled from the mattress heaped high in his arms. The quiet "good morning" was likely lost in the sounds of rustling fabric as he turned and left, letting the Serbian adjust to being very suddenly awake at 4:07 in the morning.