He smiled at me sleepily. I frowned at him, trying to recall what a smile meant. That lift of the corners of his mouth, what is it?

"Lark," he murmured, still half asleep, I gathered.

His words took me by surprise. Had he spoken? Of course. Speaking. Words. I opened my mouth to say something, and closed it again. What should I say? What is an appropriate greeting? What is a greeting I can remember? How about, 'sup'? I recalled that. Had I ever said it before? I didn't know.

"Therp," I said, my tongue hanging uselessly in my mouth. Gracious! What was that?

"Pardon?" he said, sighing deeply.

I tried again. "Thup," I said, and clapped a hand over my mouth. I made an effort. "Sup."

His lips twitched. "I haven't heard you say that before, Lark."

Lark? What does that mean? Does he mean me? Is my name Lark?

"Um..." I replied, not sure what to say, or, if I knew what to say, how to say it.

"You're awake early," he said. "You aren't as early as your sisters."

Sisters? What sisters? This time I managed something.

"My thisterers?"

"You're talking oddly this morning."

"Sossy." It sounded awful. Not like words at all.

"Are you okay?" He was sitting up now, dark eyes concerned.

I felt my cheeks go very hot, a strange sensation. "Thinkso. Vewy werd. Can't member niting."

He frowned. "I think you should go back to sleep."

I shook my head. Just then I heard a shouting outside the door, and my senses prickled. What am I doing, in this white room in this white bed with this man? What am I doing?

The End

0 comments about this story Feed