Since The Leak life had been a bit strange. The familiarity of domestic routines was a comfort. Practising mindfulness whilst washing-up at the kitchen window was amongst Norma’s favourites. There, as usual, was Robin the robin, twisting and bobbing on the garden wall, looking out for his breakfast. She and Paul had chosen the name long ago when they were still speaking to each other, or more correctly before the diagnosis, when she could speak.
Useless at multi-tasking.
At the movement, Norma’s thoughts refocussed. Looking-up from a particularly stubborn fried egg encrustation, Paul entered her vision window-left. He was wearing his usual gardening attire, the pink “onesie.” Face down, back arched, he was advancing worm-like through the petunias. She and Robin watched him reach the ninety degree obstacle of the house wall corner and stop. Robin opened his beak, uncoiled a forked tongue, flicked and caught the cat snoozing below, gulped, and flew off.
Too much! This has got to stop.
Norma abandoned her watery mindfulness, opened the back door, ripped off the rubber Marigolds, and heeled the prone Paul in the buttocks. He had always been a big man, stomach and buttocks protruding equally front and rear in perfect counterbalance. Not so big now. The convexities of his body seemed to be shrinking. And like hand rolled dough, he appeared to lengthen cylindrically with their assimilation.
“What the hell are you up to now?” she exploded.
No reply. Paul’s face was in the dirt with arms and legs outstretched, a mound of peat-free compost and a pair of glasses beside him.
Must have been preparing for the bedding plants. Probably in shock hearing me speak again.
As Norma bent down over him, the dampness of the earth and fertiliser wisped into her body. Using both arms, she cautiously rolled Paul away from the wall towards her.
The unfamiliar voice she heard screaming was her own. She re-counted.
“One, two, three, four…. yes confirmed five hearts” They pulsed beneath a translucent glistening pink cocoon. Paul’s formerly bespectacled eyes were sunken and skinning over.
In transmutation?
xxxxx
Norma was determined to continue practising mindfulness. She looked out as she washed up after the customary soup and sandwich, thankful that the change in evening routine was relatively minor; a meal for one rather than two.
Couldn’t move him. As heavy as ever despite the changes. Anyway serves him right after what he did. Robin always did have a preference for earthworms over berries. Definitely a hard-core carnivore now.
