The Shepherd and the Salesman

Plagued by the Mind

Ili opened the door to his apartment, holding the stout man within one arm and entering. The warm apartment sharply contrasting from the frigid air outside.

Ili set Spamton down on the couch, resting the coat over him like a blanket. He closed the apartment door behind himself and stood in front of the couch.

"...I'm such a fucking idiot" He muttered to himself "Bringing some random homeless guy in my house cuz I knew him twenty years ago, what the fuck was I thinking!?"
Be slightly yelled, he heard a quiet mumble from the man.

"..." he stared over at the man, who was luckily still asleep.
He quietly sighed.
"....What am I saying? I couldn't have just left him there... not in the cold." He sat down next to him on the couch, his head in his hands. "He would've died..." he said quietly.

"..." he then gazed over at Spamton, his glasses were sliding down his long, pointy nose.
Ili reached over and took his multicolor, opaque glasses off gently, folding them and placing them on the coffee table.
Spamton's eyes were now visible, they were closed, but Ili could clearly see the dark bags under them from lack of sleep.

He just silently sat for a moment, then gazed out at his own apartment.

"...Maybe I could make him some hot cocoa or something for when he wakes up, something warm..." he quietly said to himself, getting up and going to the kitchen.

He just silently began preparing two mugs of hot cocoa, one for himself, one for Spamton. He whistled a tune to himself absent-mindedly as he did this. "...I wonder if he remembers me..." he muttered.

He and Spamton when they worked together were best friends. Well....
Maybe a little more than just that,
The two had a slight affair with eachother, but never really dated or anything, they couldn't have done that. Spamton would have gotten fired.

Ili sat, wondering where Spamton had been all these years, was he... homeless? It'd been 21 years... considering his health, he doubted he would survive 21 years in such conditions.

His thoughts were interrupted by the whistle of the kettle, the water was now hot. He picked the kettle, and prepared the hot cocoa. It was just instant mix, nothing fancy, but he figured it would do.

He finished making it and turned to go back into the living room. But as he did...

Spamton stood in the entryway from the kitchen to the living room, staring at Ili. His glasses were back on, but it was clear he was disturbed

"...Sup." Ili stated blankly,
"—You good?"