bed.
“Stay!” she commanded as he tried to leave her to her rest. She feebly tapped the duvet beside her, and he lay there, settling her into his arms. She pressed her head to his chest and observed, “I can hear them again.”
“Hear what, my love?” HG asked, puzzled.
“My nano army sweeping away through my veins.” She could feel him smile as HG drew her closer.
“Keeping you alive, my love. So you can write more beautiful words.”
* * *
As the days passed and Eliza’s confidence in her writing grew, HG removed himself from her office, leaving the windowsill entirely at the cat’s disposal, and took to spending more time in his own office, where Eliza presumed he was also writing.
He was so absorbed in the book he was reading on his laptop that he didn’t hear her approach his sanctuary. Something—he wasn’t even sure what—made him glance up and towards the door, and there he found her, leaning against the frame, studying him intently.
For a split second he thought she’d finally begun to puzzle over why he was so much younger than her, though from what she said, it was obvious she thought of them as about the same age. Then a split second later he thought she’d worked it all out and he quickly closed the computer screen. He’d observed how astute she could be. She only missed the things she chose to miss.
“What is it, my love?” he asked her, an enquiring smile about his lips.
“You weren’t writing?”
“I was revising something I’d written earlier,” he said, belatedly realizing the trap he’d set for himself, hoping she wouldn’t ask to view his words.
“Do you think you could come and revise mine?” she asked him.
“Your muse has left you?” he asked her with a raised eyebrow.
“My muse is sitting in his office, and I have a horrible bout of writer’s block today.”
Dutifully he accompanied her to her creative den.
In a glance at her computer screen he realized she had added another five thousand words to her latest novel since this morning. She was throwing herself at her work like a mountain goat at a snow capped peak, and not for the first time HG wondered if he should counsel her to take her time. But those two from her publishing house always insisted that hard work was good for her.
“You remember how the protagonist was trapped in that cave … ?” Eliza began.
“Tom Burrows, your adventure-seeking librarian, yes?”
“I’m damned if I know how to get him out now.” She took her seat and considered the computer screen with an exasperated sigh.
“Let me see.” He leant in close to study her writing, aware of her warmth, the light pressure of her body against his. “You don’t say if he’s carrying a length of rope or not. If you mention it in the previous page … ?”
She considered that for a moment then dismissed it. “Rope’s a bit passé, isn’t it? Besides, it’s a subterranean cave. How about he feels a breeze on his cheek and follows it to another exit?” she suggested, inspired by his closeness, looking up to him for his approval.
He considered a moment and said, “Yes, that would do it too, I guess.”
“Thank you, HG, you’re a treasure.” She pressed closer into him affectionately, then resumed typing, her bird-claw-like hands fluttering over the keyboard.
“Why don’t you take a break?” he suggested.
She hummed him away dismissively, fingers still flying as she tried to capture words and lodge them on the screen before they flew out of her mind.
He persisted. “Then why not use the speak function on the computer?”
“You know how I hate to use that, HG. It interrupts the flow of the movie in my mind.” The words didn’t stop spilling onto the screen as she answered him, he noticed.
“Leave you in peace, shall I?” he suggested, leaving her to her work.
* * *
Back in his office, HG decided it might be wise, considering he was supposed to be a writer, if he had some of his writing
“Stay!” she commanded as he tried to leave her to her rest. She feebly tapped the duvet beside her, and he lay there, settling her into his arms. She pressed her head to his chest and observed, “I can hear them again.”
“Hear what, my love?” HG asked, puzzled.
“My nano army sweeping away through my veins.” She could feel him smile as HG drew her closer.
“Keeping you alive, my love. So you can write more beautiful words.”
* * *
As the days passed and Eliza’s confidence in her writing grew, HG removed himself from her office, leaving the windowsill entirely at the cat’s disposal, and took to spending more time in his own office, where Eliza presumed he was also writing.
He was so absorbed in the book he was reading on his laptop that he didn’t hear her approach his sanctuary. Something—he wasn’t even sure what—made him glance up and towards the door, and there he found her, leaning against the frame, studying him intently.
For a split second he thought she’d finally begun to puzzle over why he was so much younger than her, though from what she said, it was obvious she thought of them as about the same age. Then a split second later he thought she’d worked it all out and he quickly closed the computer screen. He’d observed how astute she could be. She only missed the things she chose to miss.
“What is it, my love?” he asked her, an enquiring smile about his lips.
“You weren’t writing?”
“I was revising something I’d written earlier,” he said, belatedly realizing the trap he’d set for himself, hoping she wouldn’t ask to view his words.
“Do you think you could come and revise mine?” she asked him.
“Your muse has left you?” he asked her with a raised eyebrow.
“My muse is sitting in his office, and I have a horrible bout of writer’s block today.”
Dutifully he accompanied her to her creative den.
In a glance at her computer screen he realized she had added another five thousand words to her latest novel since this morning. She was throwing herself at her work like a mountain goat at a snow capped peak, and not for the first time HG wondered if he should counsel her to take her time. But those two from her publishing house always insisted that hard work was good for her.
“You remember how the protagonist was trapped in that cave … ?” Eliza began.
“Tom Burrows, your adventure-seeking librarian, yes?”
“I’m damned if I know how to get him out now.” She took her seat and considered the computer screen with an exasperated sigh.
“Let me see.” He leant in close to study her writing, aware of her warmth, the light pressure of her body against his. “You don’t say if he’s carrying a length of rope or not. If you mention it in the previous page … ?”
She considered that for a moment then dismissed it. “Rope’s a bit passé, isn’t it? Besides, it’s a subterranean cave. How about he feels a breeze on his cheek and follows it to another exit?” she suggested, inspired by his closeness, looking up to him for his approval.
He considered a moment and said, “Yes, that would do it too, I guess.”
“Thank you, HG, you’re a treasure.” She pressed closer into him affectionately, then resumed typing, her bird-claw-like hands fluttering over the keyboard.
“Why don’t you take a break?” he suggested.
She hummed him away dismissively, fingers still flying as she tried to capture words and lodge them on the screen before they flew out of her mind.
He persisted. “Then why not use the speak function on the computer?”
“You know how I hate to use that, HG. It interrupts the flow of the movie in my mind.” The words didn’t stop spilling onto the screen as she answered him, he noticed.
“Leave you in peace, shall I?” he suggested, leaving her to her work.
* * *
Back in his office, HG decided it might be wise, considering he was supposed to be a writer, if he had some of his writing
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