December 26th, xxxx
THE SILENCE HAS BEEN pushed to a corner. It waits but doesn't breathe down his neck, doesn't float in the way, isn't the first thing that greets him when he wakes up in the morning.
The first thing that greets Precious in the morning is Kamil's shadow; it's the sound of him puttering around the house. For the first time, the big limited space is too small. Kamil's body is large and his presence larger.
Precious is recovered. His body is in that state where the sick has been expunged but is still a bit weak and can only do mundane tasks but is itching to move around, to work its bones, test its strength, walk its legs.
Precious doesn't want to recover. Well, he does but once his body eats up the strength it seeks, Kamil will have nothing to do here. There will be no waking up seconds before Kamil to crane his neck and admire his sleeping form.
