![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
priscaTitle: A lousy messenger
Character: Mr. Smith, Erin
Prompts: headache
Word Count: 195
Finished: 03.11.2020
:::
„Smith?!“ Erin eyed the little guy, who was cowering at a table in the cafeteria of the Mountain, slightly worried.
He was a loner; aside from Kurdy, he showed no interest in socializing with others. Erin had offered him a quarter in the Mountain some time ago, but he had refused to accept it, though autumn slowly started to turn into winter, with rain, storm, and cold nights. At least he had agreed to visit the cafeteria now and then, for a hot coffee and a decent meal.
She stepped closer; despite the comfortable warmth, Smith had pulled his old coat around himself but couldn't hide the shaking of his body; his forehead was resting on his arms. „Smith? What's wrong?“
He lifted his head without opening his eyes. „Headache,“ he murmured weakly. „Since some days already.“
„You should go to the hospital ward,“ Erin offered,“ the doc can give you some painkiller.“
But she was not surprised when he shook his head.“It won't help. Nothing can help. It's God talking to me; he wants me to understand, but as hard as I try, I'm failing. I'm afraid I am a lousy messenger.“
Character: Mr. Smith, Erin
Prompts: headache
Word Count: 195
Finished: 03.11.2020
:::
„Smith?!“ Erin eyed the little guy, who was cowering at a table in the cafeteria of the Mountain, slightly worried.
He was a loner; aside from Kurdy, he showed no interest in socializing with others. Erin had offered him a quarter in the Mountain some time ago, but he had refused to accept it, though autumn slowly started to turn into winter, with rain, storm, and cold nights. At least he had agreed to visit the cafeteria now and then, for a hot coffee and a decent meal.
She stepped closer; despite the comfortable warmth, Smith had pulled his old coat around himself but couldn't hide the shaking of his body; his forehead was resting on his arms. „Smith? What's wrong?“
He lifted his head without opening his eyes. „Headache,“ he murmured weakly. „Since some days already.“
„You should go to the hospital ward,“ Erin offered,“ the doc can give you some painkiller.“
But she was not surprised when he shook his head.“It won't help. Nothing can help. It's God talking to me; he wants me to understand, but as hard as I try, I'm failing. I'm afraid I am a lousy messenger.“