"How are you?" says Carl, standing over me. His face appears stark, clear, crystalline as his playful blue eyes become sombre and concerned, and the lines around his mouth framing it like a Rembrandt portrait.
"Mel, can you bring Chris a glass of water please?"
She responds promptly. The water is cold, so cold, so pure, so holy and eternal. I will drink and drink, and never again thirst, yet still I must drink and continue to drink.
"Chris", says Carl, "let´s go upstairs. Get some rest. Supper won't be for at least two hours. You've had a heavy day. Come, let's go." He helps me up, and I lean on him as he supports me out of the kitchen, and up the grand staircase, and it all looks so lovely right now, and I only wish I could communicate the absolute loveliness, the exalted splendour that fills and envelops me. I am smiling, stupidly and hopelessly blissed out with joy, but I know that I need to rest now, and my friend, my brother, my hero, Carl, is here for me, has been always here for me, and now I love him so with every molecule of my being, and I don't want us to be apart, not for one single second.
We make it to the top of the stairs, and he guides me to my room, his room at the end of the hall. He leads me to the bed, and helps me lie down, then pulls each shoe from my feet, Then from the closet pulls out a green blanket that he covers me with, and yes, now it is his turn to tuck me into bed. He sits down on the side of the bed, and gently strokes my hair, and I don't want him to leave.
"Here, Chris, rest for a while", he says, then kisses me on the forehead. I will come up and get you when dinner is ready. "He gently closes the door behind him, and now I am sinking into oblivion...
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