Afterlife: Reincarnation

31

July 5

HARRY

I tapped my pen incessantly on the edge of the manuscript in front of me, my eyes tracing the lines of script. I was irritating the fuck out of myself with the noise made by my tapping, and yet, I just kept doing it. It was something I did when I was trying to focus, when I just couldn't seem to get in to a book. So far, I was on the tenth chapter, and the whole previous nine had been a struggle.

The characters were dull, the dialogue was unrealistic, and the plot line was so far non existent...how had I even been forced to read this?

Oh, that's right. It was my job.

Shit.

I had started it yesterday, and the synopsis had actually sounded intriguing. Unfortunately, it would appear that the authors literary talent ended at a one page summary of work. Because so far I was on page one hundred, and was still waiting for something to fucking happen.

It was just before eleven in the morning, and I had been counting down the minutes until lunch since ten. My position within my little cubical had changed over and over again, trying to find a comfortable spot, or at least one that may help me focus. I quickly learned that in a five foot square space, there was no such thing as comfort.

Currently, I was hunched over my desk, my chin in one hand, my pen tapping annoyingly in the other. I was twisted in my seat, one leg pulled under me as I sat on my ankle. I knew my foot would be numb in no time, but so far it was the closest spot I had come to some form of comfort.

Turning yet another lifeless page, my phone vibrated on my desk. I all but threw my pen to the side, relieved beyond belief that I finally had a distraction from this monotony.

"Hello?"

"Hey," her voice sounded through the line, immediately pushing away all forms of annoyance.

"Hey baby," I replied, lowering my voice. I knew personal calls weren't forbidden, but they were 'frowned upon'. I would have to keep my voice down, but hearing her was the only bright spot in this day so far.

"What are you doing?" she asked, casual and light.

I groaned, resting my head against my free hand. "Reading one of the worst manuscripts I think I've ever been forced to read," I answered. "I see now why they have so many of us. We die off of boredom and have to be replaced."

She giggled, amused by my sullen tone. "Dramatic much?"

"Not dramatic. Just honest."

She laughed again, before launching into a tale of her day. Much like those previous, they had went out into a neighboring region doing another site clinic. She said that the heat was unbearable, and she had just had the most erotic shower of her life.

Of course, her choice of words caught my attention.

"Erotic, huh?" I grinned. "I don't know if I fancy you having anything erotic without me, babe. Unless of course I get to watch."

I heard her tisk me, and my smile increased. "You know what I meant," she scolded.

I snickered, knowing full well her cheeks were probably coloring.

"So...how are you feeling?" I asked. It was something I seemed to find myself asking any time we were on the phone together since the night that no doubt haunted her. Any time we emailed, references to it had been indirect and vague, albeit there. But when on the phone, it was the closest connection we had; the closest form of honesty we could garner. I had told her my horrors, my past and my fears. By doing so she alleviated them, to a small degree. I wanted to share hers, if it meant I could take away some of her burden.