Feb. 17th, 2006

flybywash: (sick/hurt/haunted)
[From here.]

The thing about sharing a bunk with someone is there's no place to go if you want to throw up in privacy.

So he doesn't.

Instead, Wash stumbles into the kitchen, falls into a chair with a graceless clatter, and braces his forehead with both hands as his throat works. The book slips onto the table in an awkward triangle. A handful of pages curl under its weight.

One breath.

kids with mixed blood --

Two.

-- their entire families --

Three.

-- certainly deserves to receive a gift for --

And he's up and rushing for the sink without comprehending it until he's halfway there.

A few minutes later, after he's let the tap run and rinsed out his mouth, he totters back to slump in his chair.

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flybywash

January 2007

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