Recovery is a Slow Process...

(The events of this chapter take place after those of the Faerie Bound chapter "Watery Kisses")

I had never been so bored in all my life as I was at that moment. Morgan had, again, returned to talk to me and got me started making paper cranes while we talked. The conversation hadn't really rendered anything new, but it wasn't for that reason I looked forward to the conversations. I just enjoyed her company.

However, now I was on my own again, the boredom had returned. I'd given up on the paper cranes, seeing as most of my attempts were abysmal failures. Most of them resembled somewhat mangled  banana boats and very few were remotely bird-like. Scratch that, none were remotely birdlike.

God knows I hated those blasted things. I was really only doing them to have an excuse to talk to Morgan. It wasn't as if I even liked origami! If I was blatently honest, the wretched paper monsters drove me round the twist.

None the less, I'd endeavoured to improve, but after several frustrating attempts I had simply placed my most recent abomination beside the others and decided to take a doze.

But with so many thoughts cluttering up my head-space, that was next to impossible.

I'd dreamed of Morgan again last night, this time by a cliff edge. Well, more like off  the cliff edge. I'd still had that same electrified buzzing that I got when Morgan was close, just like in real life, and these shared dreams were no doubt just about the only thing that kept me sane in this mind-numbingly boring state.

However, to my distaste, the dream had, once again ended before I'd had the chance to kiss her again. Never mind, I'd find some other way of doing that.

As I daydreamed, the nurse, whose name I had finally discovered was Linda, came in to check the levels in the bags of fluid that hung around my bed. As she did so, she shot me an approving look and half-whispered:

"She's a good looking girl too, you have good taste."

I blinked in alarm and Linda laughed,

"Oh come on, you aren't exactly being discrete about it. I've seen the way you look at her, and the way you act so ridiculously goofy when she's around."

Goofy! I was not being goofy! I was trying to be amicably witty I'll have you know. Evidently I'm not doing a very good job of it.

Still laughing, Linda looked me over and gave me a searching look before saying again:

"You're doing fairly well. Your ankle will take some time to heal, as will the deeper cuts to your chest. Your wrist will be tender for a while but you'll be able to use that pretty soon. All in all I think you ought to be up and about in around," she thought for a minute, "about three or four days. But mind you, you won't be totally back to normal for several weeks at least. Honestly how you managed to mangle yourself like that is beyond me."

You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

With that, she turned and left the room and, once again I was alone with my thoughts. Three days she said. Three days until I could finally stand up again.

Mind you, it would be a good while longer before I was in any state to confront my family.

Which I knew I was going to have to, someday.

The End

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