Caring

Oh gods He is sick. He has what one had... only worse... of course. Upon arriving home, an hour late due to staying back at work, one found Him. Dying on the bed. May one just say that drama degree is never wasted :P

When it hit one small slave, one managed to shoot out of bed 39 times the first night without waking Him once. Sneak out of bed for morning mouse and the eyes fly open... go figure. Anyway back to Him. He ain’t sneaking nowhere.

Watching Him laying there one realised two things. Firstly there was a glimmer of compassion... it is a vicious bug. Secondly He needed to move to the couch; otherwise one was never going to get the sleep needed to go to work in the morning. So with all the love in the world, one made Him a nest on the couch that is really too small for a 6’ bloke. Not that He was going to get that much sleep anyway so... Besides, the couch is six paces closer to the bathroom. Sliding the heavy glass doors shut, one sealed Him off and went to bed.

This morning, after unsealing the tomb, one found Him awake and almost perky. It was short lived. Re-ensconced in the bedroom He needed drinks and pills and a cool cloth for his fevered brow. It was at the cloth point one snapped... just a little... and pointed out that one of us was trying to get ready for work and that frankly, this level of care had not been evident during one’s demise.

He countered that all one had done was sleep. To which one retorted pithily that it was a model He might care to emulate. Sighs you know one is starting to suspect one isn’t going to get nominated for the good slave award, let alone be in the running.