*~*~Chapter 7~*~*
M. Stryfe Company Report
Two years and five months after receiving our orders for the insurance investigayion
Meryl stared blankly at the paper, then ripped it out of the typewriter and threw it on the floor. She inserted a new paper and positioned her hand above the keys, ready to type. She stared blankly at the white paper.
M. Stryfe Company report
Tic tic ticca tic.
Two years and five monthsd
She snarled and maliciously tore the paper out of the machine. She stretched her fingers and snatched a new piece of paper.
M. Stryfe Company Report
Two years and five months after reci3ev
"AAUUGH! DARNIT!" She pounded her hand on the keys.
M. Stryfe Company Report
Two years and five months after reci3evjhgjh
fsdjkdfdshdsgdxjuyujyuhdsbgjhyukdjhdjhxcjhcxjuhwsdzxdjkssedeuekuesseuiseie8ui
Meryl shook her head and brought her bandaged hand to her face. She took a deep breath and rested her right hand on the typewriter.
Tic.
She sighed and let her fingers dance over the keys, not paying attention to what was being typed.
Tic tic ticca tic ticca tic tic tic.
She separated her fingers and peeked at the paper.
vash the stampede
She gawked at the typing, then stared at her hand as if asking why did you type that? She heard a knock on the door and jerked.
"Are you still awake?" a muffled voice said through the door.
"Eeayeah… come in," she said, adding a few more words to the paper.
Vash opened the door and came in holding a teacup in each hand.
"I made some tea," he said obviously.
"Oh. Thanks," she said as she took the cup he held out to her. She noticed that his hand was bandaged.
"What did you do?" she asked, looking at his hand.
He replied matter-of-factly. "Burned myself."
On tea? Meryl scoffed, but kept her mouth shut. She took a sip of her tea. Eugh, decaf.
Vash leaned over her shoulder casually.
vash the stampede is a big fat idiot
"Well that's not very nice," he whined, and dipped a donut into his tea.
Meryl shrugged, sipping her tea.
"So how long are Millie and Wolfwood supposed to be gone?" The question was so casual it sounded forced.
She ignored it. "Ten days." She smirked as she heard him choke on his donut.
"Oh," he coughed, trying to keep a straight face.
She stared at her typewriter, wondering if she should break the awkward silence that had fallen.
"Well," he said brightly, "I'm off to bed! Good-night and enjoy your tea."
He left, closing the door before she could reply. She gazed into her teacup, and then set it on her nightstand. She closed up her typewriter and set it on the floor, the report would have to wait. She lay uncomfortably on her back, staring at the ceiling. I can't wait to get rid of this stupid cast, she thought lazily. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and tried to sleep.
Vash quietly opened his door, cringing as the hinges squealed in protest. He hung his coat on the door and set his teacup on the small table by the door. His mind was nearly blank as he changed into his pajamas. He stood about three feet from the side of his bed. He stretched his arms out at his sides.
"I am a tree," he whispered, "and I am falling. Whee."
He fell face-first onto his bed, hitting his head on the wall. It was horrible to be so tall. He got up and crawled under his covers. The house was so cold at night. A long breath escaped him and he looked out the huge uncovered window. There were no stars to be seen in the velvet sky tonight. The desert sands were painted mahogany-purple under the unusually pitch dusk. The only light came from the distant horizon, a thin streak of pale blue light cutting the night in half.
"Why am I here?" he whispered to himself. He stared at the sky, and light breezes whistled past the cut stone opening, seeming to answer his query. Because you don't belong anywhere else.
He turned over, away from the window. Something was wrong. He couldn't tell what exactly, but something wasn't the way it should be. He pulled his knees up to his chest and gathered the thin blankets closer to his shoulders. A slight shiver crawled down his spine, and he closed his eyes, blanking his mind to all thought. His arms encircled his knees, pulling the blankets closer. But no matter how exhausted he felt, he knew that sleep would not be won easily.