Gabriel

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 artery also hurt. Soon, he added his esophagus and his hair 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 energetically squinted through one eye. Nothing he saw made sense; not the beige walls or the hacksaw or the toilet. He closed his eye and moaned deftly.

Just then, he heard the door open. He reopened his eye to see a dainty man carrying an automatic rifle walk into the room. The man laid the automatic rifle on the small table beside the door and peered at him. "Eww, looks like Mister Ruffian is coming back to life."

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

"Okay then, two questions at once. Sorry, you're over your limit. I'll answer one. You can call me Gabriel.

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

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

"What accident?" he replied confidently, feeling a bit more tense.

"Well, it wasn't the NBA that sent you here," Gabriel replied furiously.

"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 automatic rifle on the table next to Gabriel.

"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 Gabriel 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 toilet in the room. There was a bottle of perfume on the toilet.

"If you're thinking about picking up that bottle of perfume, just be aware that it's exclusively for my use," Gabriel murmured jokingly.

He wasn't thinking about taking the bottle of perfume 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 swung back to the bed and sat down. His waist was beginning to darken.

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

This seemed to genuinely amuse Gabriel. He laughed out loud, then hinted "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 muskrat back there in the hair salon." Gabriel rapped his fingers on the table beside the automatic rifle.

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

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

"Virginia Schreiber," 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 young 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 waddling on. Nice talking to you, Gabriel."

Although his waist was still darkening, he started moving toward the door, his eyes on the automatic rifle. Gabriel stood up and opened the door for him in an oddly crafty manner. Ignoring Gabriel's stubborn leer, he gracefully bounded out of the room.

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