The colours of the sunset shone brightly
outside the small kitchen window. A
violent rumbling ache exploded within
his stomach, but he ignored it and
continued to strum the chords of a
newborn song on the strings of his
favourite guitar.
As midnight approached, he grew weary. He set the guitar up against the wall, and slowly and absently walked towards his bedroom. The covers were warm and soft, and he slid into them like a seal into the ocean. He pulled them to this chin, and closed his eyes as he fell into a peaceful slumber.
He was awaken again and again by the angry waves of pain in his stomach. Frustrated, he went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. He gulped it down quickly and returned to his bed. As he lay down again, the pain increased. He grabbed at his stomach with both hands as a tear rolled down his cheek. He forced his eyes closed, and lay there until the heavy pains subsided and he could fall asleep again.
He woke to the sound of the birds singing sweetly outside his window. He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and walked to the place where he'd set his guitar the night before. As he picked it up, he heard the sound of the phone ringing. He hesitated for a moment, then answered.
"Hello?" he said.
"Daniel, hey. Would you like to come to
lunch with me today?"
A lump grew in
his throat. "I don't think I can, I'm
feeling quite ill."
"Oh, ok well then maybe next time.
Goodbye."
He let out a soft sigh of relief as the click of the phone came to his ears. He hung it up quickly, and returned to his guitar.
Sweep came leaping excitedly into the living room, and jumped up onto his lap. He smiled, and scratched behind her ears softly. He let her sit with him as he finished his fourth song on the guitar.
As the day dragged on, he began absently strumming at the strings of the guitar, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. Sweep climbed onto his lap again and licked his face. He turned to her and smiled faintly, then put his guitar to the side, picked her up and walked to the den.
He turned on the television, but it was nothing but noise to distract him from the demon pains in his stomach. He scrunched his face, holding back the tears in his eyes. He grabbed at his stomach, and curled up into a ball. He tried to concentrate on the images of the television in front of him, but the noise was distorted and unintelligible. All he could think of was the intense aching inside him.
He ran to the kitchen, wiping the tears from his eyes as he opened the fridge and took out an apple. He bit at it furiously, choking on his tears. He stopped suddenly, and threw the apple into the sink and spit up the half-chewed pieces that were in his mouth. He slid slowly to the ground, and buried his head in his hands. Fuck, he said, and sat there sobbing miserably. His life was rapidly tearing itself from his control. He hoped he'd survive. He knew he wouldn't come out unscathed.
Still, he hoped he'd survive.
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