Minor Changes

Chapter Six

A decent latte was the first order of business after keeping company with a defunct Mr. Coffee for two weeks in quarantine. Brett made a beeline to a familiar coffee shop, which wasn't far from their rented flat. He texted a photo of the foamed pattern to Eddy. It looked like the branches of a willow tree.

Out of jail. Heading home.

The key clicked in the door and he rolled his suitcase in, surveying the living area of the neatly-furnished rental, which smelled of lemon-scented tile cleaner. No signs of life. He tossed his suitcase in the corner to unpack later. When he set his coffee on the small dinette, he noticed a glass that had a pool of red wine caked at the bottom. This struck him as strange, because Eddy didn't usually drink alone.

Even as he sipped his coffee, his eyelids felt stagnant and weighted, so he pulled off his jeans and climbed into bed. It seemed to happen more and more these days. For the life of him, he couldn't seem to find a shred of energy. He scrolled on his phone for a while, but the caffeine never took effect and he quickly nodded off.

When he woke up around dinner time, gold light was still filtering in through the windows. He wandered into the kitchen in search of food and found Eddy's familiar frame hunched over his phone, drinking a glass of wine.

"Hey," said Brett.

He didn't know whether or not to feel self-conscious in his boxer shorts, but decided to just roll with it.

"Morning," Eddy said, clicking his phone to the home screen and looking up at his friend, whose charcoal-black hair was disheveled in a most irresistible way. Being in the same room after time apart felt equal parts familiar and foreign, and they each took a moment to recalibrate to the other's shape and presence. Brett's bare legs weren't helping, and it was all Eddy could do to keep from looking his slight frame up and down. He did seem more gaunt and frail lately, and his questionable diet most likely had something to do with it, Eddy mused.

"Nice being back, isn't it?" Brett said, more as a statement than a question. He helped himself to a container of mango yogurt and downed it while standing in front of the refrigerator.

"Yeah, but I'm not used to being around people again," Eddy said.

"Any luck with the interviews?" Brett asked.

"Yeah. This flautist is amazing," said Eddy. He opened the laptop and Brett sat next to him as they pored over the test footage of the striking young student. She was not only flawless in her playing, but also happened to be drop dead gorgeous.

Brett sat back and scratched the back of his head.

"Wow." The look on his face suggested that maybe, just maybe, he was weighing out his competition.