Later in bed

  Later, in bed - and later still.  

continued from last time

“Wait,” Roz said. “You make those up. Don’t you?”
      “What?” I said.

      “The letters.” She rolled onto her side and was looking at me.

     “ ... ,” I said. Or, I didn't say because I was trying not to.

     Without her glasses she herself looks unfocused. Without them, too, her eyes have to defend themselves. She looked fierce.
     “That Albert was referring to,” she said.
     “Oh. Yes. Yes, of course,” I said.

 

“My only concern,” Dr. Feight was saying, who normally says next to nothing but seemed to be feeling chatty, “is how much they may take out of you.” Now he was talking about the letters.

     “Well, I can’t think much. I don’t really work at them.” I stopped.

     “They just come to you?”

     “Yes. It’s more that I transcribe them than write them.”

     “But you are writing them, just you’re not writing in your own voice?”

     “No.”

     “You are writing with your own pen?!”

     “Yes,” I said, “of course.”

     I didn’t say, “different pens” (plural) and that was because they all had different pens, different colors. And different hand-writings, of course.

09.01.21

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 “If you’re new to the blog, you can catch up with Roz’s story here. And you can catch up to Dr. Feight’s story here, whether you’re new or not.”