Fakir doesn't waste energy on nodding, or thanking Autor, or even making a sound. Instead he takes the water cup and drinks very slowly: a swallow, a breath, a swallow, another breath. There's a dizzy blackness at the edge of his vision. But he's still standing, with thirteen hours to go.
The walk to and from the bathroom hurts. Fakir's blistered feet will need attention when this is over. (If there's one thing the ballet school is stocked with, it's medication for blistered feet.)
When he returns, Fakir says nothing to Autor. He's beyond words and beyond memories; his mind, at last, is clear and empty, a blank page beside a sealed ink bottle.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-01-29 05:33 am (UTC)The walk to and from the bathroom hurts. Fakir's blistered feet will need attention when this is over. (If there's one thing the ballet school is stocked with, it's medication for blistered feet.)
When he returns, Fakir says nothing to Autor. He's beyond words and beyond memories; his mind, at last, is clear and empty, a blank page beside a sealed ink bottle.