TITLE: The Further Complications of Chocolate Mousse Cake
AUTHOR: Tiffany Park
CATEGORY: Fluff, Cooking. Sequel to "The Siren Call and Many Complications of Chocolate Mousse Cake."
SERIES: The series is still untitled. The stories should be read in the following order: "Embracing Destiny," "Choosing Priorities," "Cooking Magic," "Like Sunshine." "The Siren Call and Many Complications of Chocolate Mousse Cake" and "The Further Complications of Chocolate Mousse Cake" can be viewed as side stories to this series. Fai is roughly ten years old in them, so they follow "Like Sunshine."
SPOILERS: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle Chapitres 150 through 172.
RATING: G
CONTENT WARNINGS: None.
SUMMARY: In another world, one far, far away, Ashura and his adopted sons Fai and Yūi have easy access to all the chocolate they could desire. Late one night, one very confusing night, Ashura encounters his double, a magical king who also enjoys chocolate and wants to obtain some for his own adopted son. Characters: AU!Ashura, King Ashura of Seresu
STATUS: Complete
ARCHIVE: Please ask first
DISCLAIMER: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle and its characters belong to CLAMP, Del Rey Ballantine Books, Random House Inc., Kodansha Ltd., Funimation, and probably a whole bunch of other people and companies I know nothing about. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
The Further Complications of Chocolate Mousse Cake
By
Tiffany Park
It was late, almost eleven at night. As was his habit, Ashura checked in on his boys before retiring. He eased the door to their bedroom open and peeked inside.
Fai and Yūi were tucked up in their twin beds, both sleeping peacefully. They always looked so innocent in sleep, but Ashura knew that impression false. They were little demons when the mood took them. Still, Ashura couldn't help smiling, feeling his heart twist. His little babies.
He closed the door, musing that the "babies" were ten years old and fast approaching adolescence. Twins or not, sooner or later they would need their own rooms. Ashura was a little surprised they hadn't already started asking for separate bedrooms.
He had considered this inevitable problem before, and had tentatively planned to clear out the spare room that served as a combined office-den-library-storage room, and move one of the twins into it. Where he'd put all that other junk, he hadn't quite figured out yet. He could get rid of some of it, he supposed, and divide the rest between the garage and his own bedroom. Buying a bigger house was out of the question. He simply didn't make enough money to cover a larger mortgage.
Dazzling light flared behind him, from the direction of the living room. He whirled, squinting, and the light dissolved into swirling kaleidoscopic motes that faded back to the normal illumination of the living room's floor lamps.
"What the—" he muttered before his brain caught up with events. An intruder, a burglar? But what moronic thief would announce his presence so carelessly, or enter a house with lights on and an occupant who was still up and around? Well, he mused, one that was an idiot, obviously.
Another thought came to him, one quite alarming. A thief who didn't care if he was detected was probably dangerous. Probably armed, and probably didn't care if he hurt or killed the occupants of the home he had invaded. Or maybe some crazy psycho, or someone amped up on drugs: a person for whom reason didn't apply at all. There were too many options, now that he thought about it, none of them good. Ashura hoped he hadn't announced his presence to the prowler with his thoughtless outburst.
Then again, maybe one of the lamps had just plain died in a spectacular fashion. A power surge or blown bulb might explain that weird burst of light. Maybe.
Quietly, he slipped into his bedroom and reached under his bed for his bokken. He had studied kendo and iaido since childhood, and always kept the wooden practice sword in easy reach for just this type of situation. Not that he had ever expected to need it, but now he was glad for his foresight. Weapon in hand, he crept down the hallway toward the living room. Hoping and praying to discover a blown light bulb or a dying lamp.
The sound of footsteps dashed those hopes. Not many footsteps, just a few, like someone was randomly drifting about the room. And an odd, whispery noise, as though heavy fabric were being dragged across the floor.
I should call the police, Ashura told himself, stopping just at the end of the hall. Right now. Grab Fai and Yūi and run to a neighbor's house, call the police from there...
The intruder paced into his line of sight and every thought in Ashura's brain froze.
It was himself.
The intruder wore his own face. Ashura gaped helplessly at the features he saw every day in the mirror. The straight, black hair was longer, past his shoulders, but otherwise the same. Same mouth, same nose, same skin tone, same bone structure... Even the eyes were the same shade of brown, so pale that they looked amber or gold when light hit them at the right angle.
He and the intruder were even the same height and build. His double's clothes, however, were frankly bizarre. He wore floor-length white robes of fine, expensive looking cloth. They were elaborately decorated with swirling blue designs outlined in glittering gold thread. Blue and yellow jewels glinted at his throat, wrists, and golden belt, and about him swept a—a cape of all things, as fancifully detailed as the robes, lined with silk and trimmed with thick white fur. The source of that strange dragging sound, a quiet voice in Ashura's panicked brain helpfully supplied.
Who wore long robes and trailing capes to invade someone's home? Especially adorned with gold, jewels, and fur? That ridiculous outfit looked heavy, restrictive, cumbersome, and hot, but the stranger didn't appear uncomfortable at all. He seemed relaxed and at ease in his outlandish garments.
And the less said about that strange, five-piece ornament on his forehead, the better. Ashura wasn't certain, but that headdress didn't appear to be attached to the intruder's skin in any way. It looked like it was floating just a centimeter or two above it.
Ashura began to wonder if he was having a very strange dream. He didn't lower his bokken, though. Better safe than sorry.
Dignified—even regal—his double allowed the brief inspection calmly and without complaint. His bearing exuded superiority and control, and his face bore a bland mien with a tiny little upturn of his lips.
It was hard to read that neutral expression. Ashura wanted to hit him...just to see if he was real or a dream fantasy.
"Greetings, my counterpart," said his double.
Ashura jumped at the sound of his own voice coming from that stranger's throat. He tightened his grip on his bokken and readied himself for a fight.
His double openly smiled.
Not being taken seriously? That infuriated Ashura. "Who are you?" he demanded, not bothering to disguise his hostility. "How did you get in my house? And why in all the Chinese Hells do you look like me?"
"This is going just as poorly as I expected," his double commented in a complete non sequitur. He looked resigned and a touch amused, though the humor seemed directed at himself rather than at Ashura.
"Never mind that. Answer my questions!"
"Very well. I am King Ashura of Seresu. I am a magician, and I entered your world, and your home, by using a spell for interdimensional travel. We look alike because you and I are counterparts existing in different worlds. In essence, you are who I would be in this world, and I am who you are in mine."
He had actually made those grandiose and nonsensical claims with a straight face. Ashura didn't know what to make of it. Either this man was a complete madman, or Ashura really was dreaming. He hoped he was dreaming, because the alternative... He barely kept himself from shaking. He didn't dare appear weak in this crazy situation.
"You look doubtful," said the strange and obviously insane man who looked and sounded exactly like Ashura and claimed to be a magical king from another world.
"No kidding. Counterparts and magic? That's absurd. I just want you to get out of my house before I call the police." Ashura would worry about whether he was dreaming or not after the intruder departed.
"Police? What is a police?" The intruder tilted his head. "As for counterparts, do your own eyes lie to you? And I assure you, magic is very real."
Before Ashura could do or say anything, the stranger raised his right hand, palm upward. Multicolored sparkles shimmered in the air above his hand. He gestured, making an elegant sweep with his arm, and the glittering motes danced about the room, circled Ashura a few times, and abruptly winked out.
Ashura's jaw dropped.
"Magic," said the magical king, smiling patiently.
"I want to wake up now," said Ashura.
"You are not asleep. This is not a dream. Not this time," came the cryptic response.
"This time?"
The magical king didn't answer. Instead, a wistful look crossed his expression. He turned his gaze over Ashura's shoulder and down the hall. "That is where they sleep? Fai and Yūi? They are there now?"
Dream or not, that put Ashura on high alert. "Stay away from them!" He took a threatening stance and raised his bokken, ready to shift forward into an attack in an instant.
The other man...the magical king...only smiled.
Ashura was getting tired of that bland, infuriating smile.
"I should have known better," the king remarked, shaking his head ruefully. "In your place, I would have reacted the same. Forgive me." He added with apparent pleasure, "You look like you might actually know how to use that weapon."
"Damn right I do," Ashura snarled. "I've been training in kendo and iaido for most of my life."
"Ken-Do?"
Who was this strange person who had never heard of kendo? Everyone knew about kendo. Did kendo not exist wherever he came from? "The art of the sword. Iaido is the art of sword drawing and cutting. I warn you, I'm well acquainted with a number of weapons."
The king looked amused at the show of bravado. "Excellent."
"What?"
"Where I am from, the warrior arts are quite important, especially to the upper classes. It would have been...disappointing...if you had been helpless or weak." He turned away, showing his unprotected back to Ashura, and gracefully lifted his open hands to shoulder height. "I swear I will not harm your children. I only wished to see Fai and Yūi..." The dark head tilted to the left, and the next words were edged with longing and sadness, "...both of them, together, in real life, in person, rather than a dream. I never saw them together in my world, except in my dreams." He made a noise that was both amused and bitter.
There was something in his double's tone, something that drew Ashura in. He should bash this intruder's head in and call the police, but he couldn't force himself to take a single step forward. He felt as though he were drowning... "You saw my children in your dreams?"
"Just once." The king lowered his hands, back still to Ashura, keeping himself passive and vulnerable to attack. "The other times, I saw mine. Or rather, they both should have been mine, but they weren't. Unlike you, I was only able to save one of them."
"What happened?"
Ashura's double finally turned to face him again. "One died."
Ashura shuddered at the thought. He barely noticed that he had lowered his bokken. "Which...which one lived—?" He couldn't bring himself to ask which one died, and anyway, the answer to the first question would also answer the second.
"Fai. Or rather Yūi, but out of misplaced guilt he assumed his brother Fai's name. The future gives me no choice but to pretend I don't know about it, and so he is always Fai." At Ashura's confused look, the king added, "It's complicated."
Ashura shook his head in denial. He didn't want to know any more, and was glad the king hadn't elaborated any further. He was already feeling overwhelmed, like his brain might break at any moment, and he really didn't want to hear more about Fai's death, even if it was a different Fai from another world. "What do you want?" He winced at the way his voice quavered, and lifted his bokken back into an offensive position. "Tell me," he growled, trying to sound threatening but suspecting he had failed.
The king actually chuckled, whether at the question, the bokken, or the pathetic attempt at a threat, Ashura didn't know. "Chocolate," the king said succinctly.
"Chocolate?" Ashura asked, not bothering to hide his incredulity. "You claim to be a version of me who is a king and a magician, to have seen my children in dreams, to have traveled from another world, and you're after chocolate?"
"I offer fair payment. I don't expect—"
Ashura uttered a bark of laughter. "This night just gets weirder and weirder. What a dream!" He slapped one hand across his mouth and threw a quick glance towards the boys' bedroom. He didn't want to wake them, not with the strange goings-on in the living room and this peculiar, dangerous stranger who wore his own face. Things might go horribly wrong at any time, and he didn't want them walking into the middle of a disaster.
But then, if it was a dream, they wouldn't wake, right?
Best not to risk it. "I don't care if this is a dream. We need to keep our voices down," he hissed at his double.
"I wasn't the one who raised his," the king replied indignantly. "And I have already told you that this is not a dream."
"Whatever you say." Ashura felt his lips twisting.
The king took a deep breath and schooled his expression to a pleasant mask. "As I was saying, I offer fair payment for your chocolate." He slowly reached beneath his cloak and removed a fine leather pouch from his ornate belt. "I don't know what your country uses for money. I have gold, but if that is not acceptable, I can easily obtain silver, jewels, or other valuables of your choosing—"
"Wait, gold?" Ashura was dumbfounded. "For chocolate? Seriously?"
"So it is acceptable, then? Gold has value in this world? I was certain it did, it does in many worlds, but there are the odd few where it is considered a mere trinket."
"And the weirdness continues to get even weirder."
The king lifted an eyebrow at that comment. He went to the coffee table and emptied his pouch. Golden coins, small ingots, and linked chains clinked into an untidy pile and glittered in the light. The king set aside the pouch and picked up an ingot somewhat larger than his thumb. With an elegant flick of his wrist, he tossed it to Ashura, who caught it one handed.
Ashura gaped at the gold bar that nestled so comfortably in his hand. It was a rough rectangle with rounded edges and stamped with a variety of designs and inscriptions. Hallmarks, he assumed. It felt heavy for its size, and gleamed richly. Ashura didn't have much experience with gold beyond a few pieces of inherited jewelry, but he was certain this was the real thing. He barely remembered he held his bokken in his other hand, and let the tip drop again.
The king said, "You may test it however you wish, but I vouch for its quality. It comes from Seresu's Borean mine, which produces some of the finest gold in my country."
Ashura blinked and looked up. He assessed his double's attire once more, this time more thoughtfully. The ostentatious getup positively reeked of opulence and wealth, and now the pile of gold on his coffee table confirmed it. He tossed the ingot back to the king, who dropped it on the table. It clinked into the pile.
"And you want chocolate?" Ashura asked. "How much?"
"All you can provide."
"Why on Earth would you travel to another world to buy chocolate with gold?"
The king gave him a rueful smile. "Alas, my Fai has begun experimenting with chocolate. It is a rare and valuable commodity, but also quite touchy and difficult to prepare, especially with heat. It scorches easily. He has—"
"He's burned it," Ashura finished, understanding perfectly. "I know all about that. It smells terrible when it's been scorched, and it's even harder to clean up." His own boys still sometimes had accidents when working with chocolate, and they were experienced cooks. A child who was only beginning to learn probably destroyed most of his main ingredient. "I think all beginners scorch chocolate at first."
"It is good to hear that Fai is not unusual in that regard. I'm afraid he burned the last of the chocolate I obtained for him from Tartessos. I decided it would be easier to come to you, in a place where I need not negotiate with ambassadors and court officials and make treaty concessions, to obtain more."
"You need to go through diplomatic channels to get chocolate? Really?" Ashura couldn't even fathom the idea. Didn't they have supermarkets in that other world?
"As I said, it is rare, and the Tartessans keep secret its origins. However, I saw in a dream that you possess it in great abundance, and so I came here."
Ashura had winced at that comment about how he kept a lot of chocolate around the house, but the mention of dreams distracted him. "You keep bringing up dreams about me and my kids." That was kind of creepy, even if it did almost make sense in the context of a dream. This whole conversation with a duplicate of himself who was a magical king from another world had to be a crazy dream.
"I sometimes see true things in dreams," was the vague reply. The king added, "I saw your children make an interesting concoction a while back. I believe it was called a chocolate mousse cake? I would appreciate it if you would sell the recipe to me, as well as the chocolate." He tipped his head up and gazed toward the kitchen, looking amused. "Did you ever get all the chocolate and raw egg off your ceiling?"
Ashura's jaw dropped open again. He shut his mouth with a snap of teeth, remembering that incident of several months previous. Fai and Yūi had made an unholy mess, and he'd never forget it or the hassle of cleaning up after them. "How did you—?" He stopped himself.
"I saw it in the same dream I told you about. The chocolate mousse cake was quite delicious, wasn't it?"
Ashura didn't even acknowledge that provocative and creepy remark.
There was no point in arguing with the insanity of this night. He might as well go along with it. He'd wake up soon enough. "Fine," he huffed, conceding with poor grace. He marched into the living room and dropped the bokken on the couch. It had finally occurred to him that this weirdo could do magic, and if he'd wanted to cause harm, he'd have done it already. In the face of wizardry, a wooden bokken was useless. "You stay away from my boys, and I'll let you have all the chocolate in the house, and the recipe, too."
"Agreed." The king looked like he wanted to say something else, but restrained himself.
Just as well. Ashura couldn't have taken much more, anyway.
He hurried into the kitchen, ignoring the way the king followed him at a slower, statelier pace. He went through the pantry and cupboards, pulling out powdered, unsweetened cocoa, several kinds of baking chocolate, and chocolate chips and piling them on the counter. He even retreated briefly to his bedroom to retrieve his hidden stash of dark and milk chocolate bars. As a final concession, he dropped a bag of Hershey's Kisses into the collection.
"This is it," he announced. "Every bit of chocolate I have."
"Quite an assortment," the king observed. "I am unfamiliar with most of these types. Could you perhaps explain them to me, so I can explain them to my child?"
It had been phrased as a question, but the tone made it an order. Ashura bristled. This man might be a king, but he wasn't Ashura's king. If he understood correctly, they were both the same person, in a bizarre way, but Ashura had no political power or wealth. He ground his teeth and told himself not to antagonize the man. After all, a real king was used to giving commands. He probably didn't even realize how he sounded. Honestly, he probably thought he was being polite.
Ashura knew he wasn't giving the best impression, either. Heck, he didn't even know how to address a king or behave in one's presence, and had avoided speaking the man's name or attempting to use any titles. What ordinary person ever expected an encounter with royalty, let alone a late-night one? Ashura supposed he sounded terribly rude to the king, but honestly, that was just too bad. He hadn't just appeared in the king's residence late at night, unannounced and uninvited like some unsavory burglar or prowler, scaring the occupant half to death in the process.
Swallowing his indignation, Ashura gave a brief description of each product to the best of his ability. Since he was an unrepentant chocoholic, and prided himself on his learning abilities, he had quite a bit of knowledge to impart. The king's brows drew together in confusion as Ashura expounded upon all the different varieties, whether they were sweetened and how much, percentages of cocoa butter, uses in and methods for cooking, the difference between milk, white, and dark chocolate, and any other trivia he could think up.
Ashura was honest enough to admit—to himself, at least—a certain petty enjoyment of the king's growing dismay at everything he'd have to remember.
However, the king didn't forget to ask, "And the recipe?"
"Recipe?"
"Chocolate mousse cake."
"Oh. Right." Ashura pulled a cookbook out of a cabinet. The recipe was on a loose piece of paper tucked near the back of the book, written in childish script and liberally smeared with chocolate. Ashura didn't know where Fai and Yūi had copied it from. Probably a magazine or an internet site, or even one of those cooking shows they loved. In any case, he wouldn't give the king the original. Not with his sons' handwriting on it. Instead, he dug a notepad and pen out of the kitchen's junk drawer, and took the time to copy the recipe out by hand.
The king waited with remarkable patience, as though he had all the time in the world. He probably did. He could do magic, right? So maybe time didn't mean a lot to him. Too bad. Ashura kept hoping something might disturb that aggravating, serene aplomb, but nothing he did seemed to unsettle the king at all.
"I don't know if you'll be able to read my handwriting," he said, offering the recipe.
The king took the paper and, after a quick perusal, uttered a small laugh. "Aside from the different language and characters, we appear to write with the same style. It is like viewing foreign words penned by my own hand. How amusing."
"Freaky, you mean," Ashura huffed, not the least bit amused.
"In any case," the king continued, "I will use another translation spell on it when I get home, so it hardly matters whether I can decipher it or not. Since Fai does not know your language or writing, I will need to create a translation that he can read. He hasn't learned translation magic yet."
"Magic again. I suppose that's how we're talking now," Ashura grumbled.
"Indeed, it is. How clever of you to recognize it, considering your dismissive attitude about magic." The king looked entirely too entertained. "Would you like to hear my own language?"
Ashura wondered why it had never occurred to him before now that the king used magic to communicate with him. Maybe because they looked alike, he also expected them to use the same language, despite their wildly different experiences and stations in life. He should have known better. "Actually, yes. It might be interesting."
The king uttered a series of syllables—words—lyrical and smooth flowing.
"I didn't understand any of that, but it sounded pretty," said Ashura.
"Thank you," said the king. "I said, 'Hello, pleased to meet you' in High Seresian, the official language of the royal court. It is quite unaccented and elaborate compared to the mixed and low dialects, which often include different pronunciations as well as vulgar forms of words and grammar."
That had sounded snobby to Ashura, but he reminded himself that he was talking to a real king with power, wealth, and status. Snobbishness came with the royal territory. He almost laughed at the thought, and amused himself further with the idea that perhaps the king hadn't said a mere hello, but rather had insulted him in the foulest terms using some of those "vulgar forms."
Besides, he didn't have any room to judge. His own language had a number of constructs used in certain social situations. Perhaps High Seresian was just like being very formal and polite.
Ashura sighed and pulled a couple of plastic grocery bags out of a cupboard. He started filling them with all his chocolate, trying not to resent giving it up to a stranger who wore his face. He could always go buy more after work tomorrow. "You said your Fai hadn't learned magic yet?" he asked, just to make conversation. Why he bothered, he didn't know. Perhaps he was starting to like the king?
Nah.
"I said he hadn't learned translation magic yet," the king corrected. "He knows a great many other spells and techniques. He is a prodigy, in fact, and has already been elevated to the highest rank of magicians in my country." His eyes shone with pride and love. "He is the most powerful magician in all the world, and one day soon shall be the most skilled and knowledgeable."
Ashura found he was pleased to see those emotions in his counterpart. "My Fai and Yūi are also brilliant," he said. "I think they'll go on to great things, too. At least you and I think alike when it comes to our kids. Perhaps we're more similar than I believed." This man might be a king, and Ashura just a wage slave, but clearly he loved his child as much as Ashura loved his own boys.
A shadow passed over the king's face, and he turned away, hiding behind a curtain of long, black hair. "I hope not," he muttered, barely audible.
Before Ashura could ask about the change of mood, the king turned back, the darkness replaced by bright cheer. He closed his eyes and smiled brilliantly. "Your life seems kind. You and your children can live it as you please, free from responsibilities and demands you cannot control, and from future actions you can neither prevent nor avoid. It gives me joy and hope to see a version of myself living such a carefree, unencumbered life."
What a strange statement from someone who was rich and had everything in the world. Ashura would hardly call his own life carefree. He was always worried about money, and spending enough time with Fai and Yūi, and keeping his old car running, and a million other things. "I suppose that's what comes of being a king," he remarked neutrally.
The king opened his eyes and that bland, unrevealing expression and benign smile settled once more upon his features. Ashura had seen that expression too many times this night, and hoped he'd never see it again. He swore he'd never resort to that kind of unreadable mask, no matter how bad he felt.
"Indeed," the king murmured. "It is most certainly what comes of being the current King of Seresu."
Ashura again detected a note of bitterness in the king's voice. Perhaps having unimaginable wealth and power wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Ashura knew he was free to quit his job, pack up his boys and belongings, and go anywhere he wanted. But still, he thought it would be nice to live in luxury, to have lots of money and servants, and to boss people around however he wished.
To disguise his discomfort and change the subject, he picked up both bags of chocolate and thrust them at the king. "Here. Careful, they're kind of heavy."
The king took them with the routine, regal poise that Ashura decided must simply be part of his training and nature. The king said, "Thank you very much. I appreciate that you didn't make this evening too difficult."
Was that a glint of humor in his eyes? Because Ashura knew he'd made the evening as difficult as he could for this strange, magical king.
The king carried his—Ashura's!—chocolate to the living room. "I suppose I have overstayed my welcome."
That was an understatement, Ashura confirmed mentally. To the king, he only said, "I hope you and your son enjoy the chocolate." He almost added, and let me know how the chocolate mousse cake turns out, but strangled the words before they could form in his throat. He most definitely did not want to know. He didn't.
"I hope you don't mind too much, but I may impose upon you again," the king tossed out with a knowing look. "Perhaps we can work out an arrangement for the procurement of chocolate."
Ashura grimaced, and at that the king openly laughed.
"Perhaps not very soon, though," the king said, still grinning. At least he understood that Ashura did not consider the evening an unalloyed pleasure. "Farewell, my counterpart. May your life continue to be safe and free of destined obligations."
He used an index finger to draw out a series of odd symbols that glowed fiercely, floating in the air and encircling him. Iridescent light filled the room, so bright Ashura shielded his eyes with his arms. When it faded, the magical king—and two grocery bags full of Ashura's chocolate—were gone.
He stared all around him. His living room looked the same as always. Normal. Like nothing unusual had happened. Only the pile of gold and the leather pouch on the coffee table provided evidence of the remarkable occurrence.
"I know this is just a dream," Ashura muttered to himself. "But still..." Even if he was dreaming, he wasn't going to leave a pile of gold sitting out in the open like that. Not even dream gold that wouldn't exist in the morning. He gathered it back into the pouch, shut off the lights, and carried the gold down the hall to his bedroom. He set it on his nightstand next to the lamp and regarded it for a moment with disbelief and wariness.
"How am I ever going to explain this on my tax forms?" he said, and then, "Why am I dreaming about taxes?" No sane person who dreamed of an unexpected windfall in gold also dreamed about taxes on said gold.
Dismissing the taxman from his mind, he stubbornly got ready for bed.
As he climbed under the covers and turned out the light, he grumbled to the pouch, "You'd better not be there when I get up tomorrow."
It took quite a while, but he did finally go to sleep.
When his alarm woke him the next morning, the pouch of gold was still on his nightstand.
*** end ***
August, 2016