Dropping By/Transcript: Difference between revisions

NARRATOR: "What if she's not dressed yet?"

EMI: "G—geeze, Hisao, what are you staring at?"

NARRATOR: "The image that flashes through my mind nearly causes me to fall over."

NARRATOR: "I should probably not ever think those thoughts again. Not if I want to avoid a heart attack. I suddenly realize I'm still standing in the hallway looking like an idiot. Emi still seems to be in conversation, but I knock anyway. Hopefully she won't mind the interruption."

NARRATOR: "So it is. I open the door and step in, which is about where my thought process comes to a grinding halt. Emi is sitting up in bed, her hair tousled from a day spent asleep. A tee-shirt several sizes too large hangs loosely from her frame. The neck has carelessly shifted to the side, baring the skin of her right shoulder, very nearly baring her chest. A pair of shorts that earn their name more than any other pair of shorts I've ever seen complete the sum total of Emi's clothing. Her legs lay bare on the sheets."

NARRATOR: "I've never seen Emi without prosthetics before. And here she is, slender legs terminating in stumps just below her knees. But as odd as the sight is, I find myself more captivated by everything north of the waist. It seems that Emi had finished her conversation with whoever was on the phone with her, and is now watching my reaction closely. Her expression, far from being embarrassed, is rather one of amusement. A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth that for a brief moment seems almost flirtatious. It is soon replaced by a full blown smile, and the smile is replaced by the sound of her laughter. I can do nothing but remain in a state fluctuating between fear, confusion, and not a little bit of lust."

NARRATOR: "And once the charge was accomplished, well, of course I'd have to wrestle the pillows away from her. And with that kind of struggle, of course we'd wind up in this sort of position. And so I find myself staring down at her from my position atop her. She's grinning, eyes sparkling with amusement, maybe a little sweaty now from our tussle. Her chest is heaving up and down, sucking in air. The small bit of my brain that is not currently enraptured by the sight and the smell of her observes that she must still be ill, because her stamina's not what it should be. We stay that way for a while. I'm not sure how long, because everything seems to go fuzzy. Everything that isn't her, anyway. Her eyes meet mine, and deep inside them I almost catch a glimpse of... what, fear? Longing? Hope?"

HISAO: "Emi...?"

NARRATOR: "I meander through the day's events, none of which are particularly engrossing. That's when I'm distracted by an arm finding its way across my waist. It seems that Emi fell asleep while I was talking. She's rolled over on to her side, and now one leg is thrown over my legs, effectively trapping me."

HISAO: "Hey."

EMI: "*Whimper*"

NARRATOR: "Emi's grip suddenly tightens again, and for the first time since I've known her, I see tears running down Emi's face. It feels like my heart is about to break. I instinctively tighten my own grip and stroke her hair in what I hope is a comforting manner. Words of comfort, meaningless in this situation, spring to mind. Maybe I should wake her. Are you supposed to wake people having nightmares? I can't for the life of me remember. The decision is taken from me as Emi suddenly jerks awake with a cry."