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nnyMarkham kept the weird shutter things on his windows shut, day time. It wasn't like it was a big deal, it wasn't like anyone noticed or would have noticed or (probably) would have cared in any case. Atlantis was like a small town, was like the small towns he'd known, and he'd known small towns.
(Why he lived in a city.)
If anyone would have noticed, not that anyone would have noticed, there was a lie trained to sit on the tip of his tongue; he'd carved out a path from the bed to the bathroom, from the bathroom to the bed to the door and what more could a man need? Depending on who it was he was lying to at any particular time he could layer his tone with the required amount of innuendo, could smirk a little with just one side of his mouth. He could keep the shutters closed and pretend it was because he wasn't thinking about the mess (instead of not thinking about what he really wasn't thinking about).
Markham kept the weird shutter things shut, day time. It wasn't like it was a big deal, it wasn't like it mattered so much if people found out anyway. It wasn't like it was anything people could see until you added a sunrise to the carefully arranged vertical strips of thick paper taped to his window to different heights, until you realised that nothing of Atlantis could be seen from this window, just shadows from the strips of thick paper, just something that was almost familiar.
(When he lived in a city.)
And okay, so maybe - when he's had the time to wake up, to get out of bed and take a shower that still doesn't feel quite right - maybe he has a stomach ache, around the edges, a sick feeling that won't quit. And maybe, depending on the day, depending on the level of 'alien' they're dealing with here, maybe sometimes it makes it a little hard to eat and a little hard to swallow and a little hard to sleep, sometimes.
But it's worth it, he thinks. For those couple of seconds when he wakes up and he's home.
*
Yes, this is an odd one. I dunno. It was just an idea that occurred, and those are so very rare these days that I shall just write them and you shall just suffer the consequences. Okay?
Some of these sentences are really oddly constructed, and they read in my head like poetry. I don't know quite why. Possibly my head is a little more lopsided than usual.
(Why he lived in a city.)
If anyone would have noticed, not that anyone would have noticed, there was a lie trained to sit on the tip of his tongue; he'd carved out a path from the bed to the bathroom, from the bathroom to the bed to the door and what more could a man need? Depending on who it was he was lying to at any particular time he could layer his tone with the required amount of innuendo, could smirk a little with just one side of his mouth. He could keep the shutters closed and pretend it was because he wasn't thinking about the mess (instead of not thinking about what he really wasn't thinking about).
Markham kept the weird shutter things shut, day time. It wasn't like it was a big deal, it wasn't like it mattered so much if people found out anyway. It wasn't like it was anything people could see until you added a sunrise to the carefully arranged vertical strips of thick paper taped to his window to different heights, until you realised that nothing of Atlantis could be seen from this window, just shadows from the strips of thick paper, just something that was almost familiar.
(When he lived in a city.)
And okay, so maybe - when he's had the time to wake up, to get out of bed and take a shower that still doesn't feel quite right - maybe he has a stomach ache, around the edges, a sick feeling that won't quit. And maybe, depending on the day, depending on the level of 'alien' they're dealing with here, maybe sometimes it makes it a little hard to eat and a little hard to swallow and a little hard to sleep, sometimes.
But it's worth it, he thinks. For those couple of seconds when he wakes up and he's home.
*
Yes, this is an odd one. I dunno. It was just an idea that occurred, and those are so very rare these days that I shall just write them and you shall just suffer the consequences. Okay?
Some of these sentences are really oddly constructed, and they read in my head like poetry. I don't know quite why. Possibly my head is a little more lopsided than usual.
