blessyourheart

blessyourheart told me he'd tell me a story and since i really like his stories i sat quietly waiting. i waited and waited but blessyourheart looked like he had no mind to start any time soon. i thought he was gathering inspiration and i didn't want to disturb him, so i went and made myself a peanut butter sandwich which i took to my place at blessyourheart's feet. blessyourheart had not moved an inch, he was still staring into some spot on the carpet and well he might have done that because the carpet was full of spots and often i, too, sat looking at them and making up stories about them. i got it into my head that the story blessyourheart was going to tell me was about some spots in the carpet and i got excited because he had never told me a story about them, this was something i did only on my own. i finished my sandwich and asked blessyourheart if he wanted one or maybe a glass of milk, but he didn't move a muscle so i took my plate to the sink and poured myself a tall glass of ice cold milk. i drank it fast and waited for the headache to come and sure enough it came and i liked that because i knew it wouldn't last long. when i returned to the living room blessyourheart still hadn't moved so i touched him lightly with my hand. he didn't move and he didn't do a thing. i said, "blessyourheart, are you okay?" then i shook him a bit, and then i shook him more, and then he fell on the floor. then i knew he was dead. he had a position no living person lying down would have. i didn't know how i knew that but i knew it. i didn't try to make him more comfortable because he's a big man and i am a small girl. anyway i thought that since he was dead it didn't matter. i smoothed his hair, though, because i always liked to do that but he never let me. and i closed his eyes gently with both hands. then i started telling him a long, sweet story about the spots on the carpet.