one hundred

I called your room to talk to your sister.

You answered the phone. I don't know how you got to the phone, or how it is that your voice was a audible as it was.

A conversation. That didn't involve pen and paper. Fragments of sentences. Or penguins.

Not eye language, or lip launguage

But words.

On the phone. Making it stranger.

Sweeter.

Harder.

Better.

Are you coming to see me? I'd love to see you..

I told you I was coming right after your surgery. That I was at work.

You said you were at work, too.

When I got there they had wired your jaw shut.

For some reason I dreaded this more than anything else.

I knew your jaw would be a bigger issue for you than your brain.

The doctor came in and said six weeks.

You just looked at her.

Later you counted to one hundred. On you fingers. It was what you wanted to do.

You know I love you, right?