And here we go, "Hello, floor. Have you met my knees?"
"Oh. Well...I suppose...um...did you...like seeing him?" Sam stressed the last word, wanting Zeph to expand on who it was exactly he saw: he was pretty sure he could make a good guess, but he didn't want to assume. If at least it was a good experience, Zeph wasn't going insane in a bad way, right?
He could see the instant disinterest (or...perhaps it was awkward discomfort?) in Zeph's face the second his question was out in the air and Sam wanted to cringe and go back in time, take the words back into his mouth. He watched as Zeph took a breath and looked up to the ceiling and he slowly sat up, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed; he was about to say it didn't matter when there was a response, one that made him blink back a couple of tears as he glanced ashamed to the floor.
"No, you're right. I know you are. I'm sorry. I just..." Sam dropped his hands into his lap, then put one to his stomach, feeling along the rough bumpy scar that was stitching itself up in his skin. "...I just want someone to...oh, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry." He shook his head, wishing he could be anywhere else in the moment.
He could see the instant disinterest (or...perhaps it was awkward discomfort?) in Zeph's face the second his question was out in the air and Sam wanted to cringe and go back in time, take the words back into his mouth. He watched as Zeph took a breath and looked up to the ceiling and he slowly sat up, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed; he was about to say it didn't matter when there was a response, one that made him blink back a couple of tears as he glanced ashamed to the floor.
"No, you're right. I know you are. I'm sorry. I just..." Sam dropped his hands into his lap, then put one to his stomach, feeling along the rough bumpy scar that was stitching itself up in his skin. "...I just want someone to...oh, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry." He shook his head, wishing he could be anywhere else in the moment.
SAMUEL
