Oh. Right. I’m still at Gillian’s. I sit up slowly. Argh. My back muscles bunch uncomfortably. Sleeping on human beds always does that to me. We don’t have to sleep upstairs, but down in the 3rd dimension we have many of the same needs as humans. Or maybe it was getting hit by a bus yesterday. That was graceful. I’m not sure I slept at all last night. Every few hours Gillian came out and pressed a soft palm to my forehead, or simply stood over me, watching the rise and fall of my chest. Her concern warmed me, but the thought of her so close to my bed, wearing her pink pajamas edged with lace, made it impossible to think of anything besides her. I shift uncomfortably. I was hard damn near all night. And it had been ridiculously hard to keep my eyes mostly shut, feigning a peaceful sleep. I try to smooth down my hair the best I can. A nervous energy fills me and, glancing around the room, I try to find something to do. I can make her breakfast. Maybe that would wrest a smile from her.
