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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...
"Damn it." I grumbled, setting my cane down on the mattress and gripping my towel tight as I climbed completely onto Errol's bed, to reach the other side. I felt around the floor and found the article of clothing I thought I dropped, but there was something else there that got caught onto what I assumed was a shirt. The folded material I dropped felt too thin to be shorts, and Errol told me he'd lay both items out.
At first I couldn't figure out what got caught on the shirt. The mysterious thing was like a strap with hooks on the end. When my fingers found the underwiring of the mystery garment, everything sorta clicked.
Of course, I thought, unhooking the snagged fabric and tossing the lace bra back where I had found it.
That was when I scrambled to finish getting dressed. Who knew what other shit I'd stumble upon in here that I could've gone the rest of my life not knowing about.
Errol
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I spent every second I could, cleaning up.
I hadn't expected to have Atlas in my home, let alone leave everything here the way it was to go get him. This place was usually in a slight disarray, which never really bothered me... until now.
Even though Atlas couldn't see the mess, I felt like he could feel the mess, and that might've even been worse.
I tidied up the kitchen, checking on what I left cooking before cleaning the dishes I used to cook. It took me by surprise how long Atlas spent in the shower, and even though my mind raced to the worst-case scenario, like him slipping and hitting his head, or somehow drowning, I forced myself to stay put.
In fact, I sat back at the piano and started to compose more. It was the only way I could get my antsy spirit to calm the fuck down, and it gave my hands something else to focus on.
Hendrix had in fact torn me a new asshole this morning during our meeting. Though I had made some impressive progress with the first Act, it still wasn't where Hendrix needed it at... so I spent the entire afternoon working on it. I went over that work now, deciding whether I wanted to keep this slow build into the second Act, or speed up the tempo of the music.
It was times like these, where I wished my mother was just a phone call away. She always knew what to do... Knew just what my work needed.
The irony of that, and what this play was about, didn't go unnoticed.
I coudn't tell you how much time passed as I played, and maybe that was why my whole body jumped when I heard a noise somewhere near the entrance to the living room. My fingers stalled at the keys as I glanced over in the direction the sudden noise came from.
"Shit, sorry!" Atlas rushed out, as he knelt to the floor to look for the cane that had fallen against the wood. He found it just seconds later, before straightening himself up again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you."
