Wilting Flowers

28: Doubt All Safety

Perspective Swap??? So soon? GASP!

~~~

Immy wasn't scared. That would have been impossible.

She had nothing to be afraid of, in the safety of her own home. Even when alone in the house, dangers stayed outside. All doors were locked and dead-bolted. So why did she feel like this?

Her growing anxiety was odd to say the least, and Immy thought it would have gone away by now. Yet it refused, and now she was at a roadblock.

She found comfort in Grim, although she knew he was probably the least likely person to help. He had helped, when the paranoia wasn't this much of a big deal. Now, she was feeling the effects.

Two sides warred in her mind. One half was terrified of him—or terrified of his power, per se. The thought of just being gone wrecked her, adding to her confusion with herself.

Despite this, the second side felt an inexplicable pull to him. All she could really figure out was an overwhelming desire to be with him constantly. She couldn't help dreaming of him when he wasn't around. After all, he was her favorite person. Completely platonic, right? Either way, she felt drawn to him. Even to touch him, despite the first side.

She was upset with herself. She was raised with common sense, so why couldn't she act the part? She was petrified by the thought of his touch, and yet craved it. Maybe, in another life, he wouldn't be The Grim Reaper. Maybe, just possibly, they could have been as close as they wished.

Daydreaming of what could never be wouldn't do her any help. Immy shut it down for two reasons: False hope would only hurt her more, and she didn't want to think about how her first urge was to kiss him. There was a completely platonic explanation, of course. She had never touched him, and she longed to, so obviously her brain would want to jump to the most affectionate thing possible.

Maybe not the most affectionate thing, She argued with herself. She tried to halt the train of thought, but it went off the rails.

Immy's stomach turned. It's platonic. It's platonic. It's impossible— She panicked for a moment before gathering her wits. Attraction. Attraction isn't always romantic. It's platonic, it has to be.

With her racy thoughts explained, she could abandon them in peace.

She loved Grim, but was not in love with him. That would damage her mental state more than it already was damaged.

And so, she comforted herself by sewing him a quilt.

Her reasons were out of wack—some days it felt like a beacon of hope, some days it felt like a parting gift—but either way, she made it, and it made her feel a little bit better when she felt alone.

She was going to embroider something into the corner patch, but she wasn't sure of what yet. Thank you, I love you, you mean the world to me—it all seemed very cheesy, and none of the messages did him justice.

She'd think about it later. For now, she focused on keeping herself busy.

After sewing a couple more patches, she abandoned the work. Her mind simply wouldn't cooperate, so she folded what she had and put it on a shelf in her closet, placing the supplies on top.

She could have gotten a sewing machine, but she was a little scared of getting her hand sewn through. Not like it would kill her, but her brain was convinced anything would. Besides, it felt more tactile without it.

She flopped back down on her bed. Immy gazed at her ceiling and tried to think up a new way of keeping herself busy.

She had run out of new books, since she hadn't been in the afterlife much outside of work. Working at the coffee shop had proved to really help her keep busy, what with half the day being taken up, but Immy almost wanted to work full time. She also thought of keeping two different jobs, or even getting a long term job, but her gut advised against it. She wouldn't be able to keep herself sane being in the afterlife all the time.