Kellen

His head was muddled and it was dark. It was dark because his eyes were closed, and he didn't feel like opening them. His head hurt. He considered that briefly, then became aware that his carotid artery also hurt. Soon, he added his wrist and his jaw to the list, and thought it might be more productive to make a list of what didn't hurt. No, that produced nothing.

He first wondered what he had done before he went to bed last night, because he was resolved to not do it again. He tried to stop thinking about anything, because it hurt to think.

Slowly it dawned on him that this was not his bed he was lying on, and he was not where he belonged, wherever that was. He thought there had been a cautious woman, or was it a man who was cautious? Anyway, he had some recollection of looking for something in the city. He wildly squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the sparkly walls or the paper clip or the washing machine. He closed his eye and moaned steadily.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a smallish man carrying an air freshener walk into the room. The man laid the air freshener on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "@#%#^@%$@!, looks like Mister Blockhead is coming back to life."

He suppressed another moan and asked, "Where am I? And who are you?"

"Not so fast, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Kellen.

That was all he wanted to try to absorb at the moment anyway, so he closed his eye again and tried to back up. He immediately opened both eyes and asked, "What am I here for? Can I have something to drink?"

"Um, your questions always come in pairs?" Kellen walked to the refrigerator and got a double latte. "Maybe this will put a little life in you. How are you feeling after your accident?"

"What accident?" he replied miserably, feeling a bit more moody.

"Well, it wasn't the Church of Saint Reginald that sent you here," Kellen replied sharply.

"And this doesn't look like a hospital. By the way, where's the bathroom? Who are you working for?" He did need the bathroom, but he also wanted to scope the place out a bit. He wasn't forgetting the air freshener on the table next to Kellen.

"There you go again. That's two questions. The bathroom's over there," he said, gesturing with his head.

Sitting up slowly and gingerly, he looked around the room. The bathroom door was to his left. The other door was in front of him, beside Kellen who had sat in a chair next to the small table. There were no windows, and just the bed, the table, the refrigerator, and a washing machine in the room. There was a lollipop on the washing machine.

"If you're thinking about picking up that lollipop, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Kellen agreed bitterly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the lollipop at the moment. He was waiting for the room to stop spinning after he stood up, bracing himself on the head of the bed. He worked his way to the bathroom, where he took his time trying to clear his head. He splashed some water on his face, then tramped back to the bed and sat down. His thigh was beginning to stink.

"If it's not too much trouble, how about you call me a cab now?"

This seemed to genuinely amuse Kellen. He laughed out loud, then maintained "You won't be needing a cab to get where you're going."

Not wanting to belabor that particular point, he instead repeated his earlier question. "Who are you working for?"

"So let's you tell me who you're working for, and why you were snooping around like a brine shrimp back there in the nail salon." Kellen rapped his fingers on the table beside the air freshener.

"I was looking for my friend. Who hit me?"

"You tripped on a wastebasket. You took a bad fall. Who is this friend you were looking for?"

"Norma Jean Campbell," he lied. "Who do you work for, and why are you keeping me here?"

"Nobody's keeping you here. That would be way too much trouble. Who wants to deal with a cheerful guest? We just wanted to chat while we help you get back on your feet."

"Okay, we chatted and I'm on my feet," (barely, he thought to himself), "so I'll just be careening on. Nice talking to you, Kellen."

Although his thigh was still stinking, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the air freshener. Kellen stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly heavyset manner. Ignoring Kellen's bald leer, he demurely loped out of the room.

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