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One sudden horrific moment shifts the entire trajectory of Atlas and Errol's lives, handicapping both young men in ways they could never have expected. A sculptor without his sight, and a piani...
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I couldn't remember falling asleep. I'm not sure when that happened...
But somehow I must've, because when my eyes drifted open hours later, I was welcomed to a small bit of sunlight bleeding through blinds I didn't recognize, and illuminating the face of someone I did.
Atlas was laying next to me, still sound asleep. We had knocked out above the covers on his mattress, and from the looks of it, neither one of us woke up to slide under the sheets. He was on his side, facing me with those long eyelashes fanning his cheeks. They pulled my gaze in as I watched them move slightly, but his eyes remained closed.
Being this close to him was interesting. I saw parts of him I couldn't see from the distance we usually had between us. The faded freckles that looked a little more defined in this lighting...
The temperature in his room was comfortable. His bed was comfortable. This was comfortable.
I almost let myself drift off to sleep again, but there was one intruding thought that really shattered my hopes of continued comfortability.
Hendrix.
I had promised I'd see her this morning, and besides what I had worked on when Atlas and I were on the phone, I didn't have much to even show her right now. I had meant to continue working later on in the night after visiting Atlas, but clearly that plan went out the same window daybreak was starting to shine through.
Damn, I thought, already slowly starting to pull myself up. I don't really have a choice, do I?
My fingers slipped my phone out of the dress pants I had now creased by sleeping in, to check the time. It was almost 6:50 in the morning, which made me panic even more.
I did my absolute best not to wake Atlas up, as I got out of bed. Before I left his room however, I decided to leave a note.
This is how I know I must've still been half asleep.
It took me about twenty minutes into the drive home to realize that a note to Atlas was about as useless as useless came. I damn near slowed to a stop in the middle of the highway, debating the most ridiculous idea like going back. Luckily it only took me about two seconds to realize how stupid that plan would've been, and I continued home.
Before I sat myself back down on that familiar bench, ready to continue composing, I sent one quick text to Atlas.
I accidentally wrote you a note. Then I realized how stupid that was. Just wanted to say thank you for having me over, I had a great night. Sorry for overstaying my welcome, but I'm down to blame your mattress if you are.
We'll talk later today about glaze colors.
I had almost forgot all about the colors Atlas wanted me to pick out, but when I remembered the call we had shortly before I decided to visit him on a whim, I didn't mind having an excuse and another opportunity to take a break from my own world and slip back into his.
