conversations with dead people, 2011 -- post for trudy
When he wakes, the images from his dream are still fresh enough in his mind to recall all the details. As he sits upright, he rubs at his hands to ward off the feeling of asphalt digging into his palms without even noticing, and he can taste a strange hint of copper in his mouth.
He feels Trudy shift in the bed beside him (and he wonders if she'd even been back to sleep after she had woken up earlier) but he doesn't glance over at her because he doesn't trust his vision just yet, afraid of what sort of spectre he might find.
It was only a dream. He's still in Milliways, not back home. (Wherever home is.)
"Bloody 'ell," he finally mutters under his breath, letting out a quiet sigh.
(I'm not lonely.)
He feels Trudy shift in the bed beside him (and he wonders if she'd even been back to sleep after she had woken up earlier) but he doesn't glance over at her because he doesn't trust his vision just yet, afraid of what sort of spectre he might find.
It was only a dream. He's still in Milliways, not back home. (Wherever home is.)
"Bloody 'ell," he finally mutters under his breath, letting out a quiet sigh.
(I'm not lonely.)