Seanday Shorts: Almost There

I looked in the mirror and took a picture, this was the best one so far.

Using the torch on the phone I flicked it across his eyes. He winced, and blinked a couple of tines--the reactions were good.

His back was broad and torso was strong. He was perfect.

"I think this is going to work," I whispered excitedly.

"Hey," I said in an authoritative tone. He didn't respond, but continued to look at himself in the mirror--like a child.

Tapping him on his strong bolder like shoulder he turned and looked at me with faint bewilderment. "Hey, there you are," I said.

He blinked, looking as if he was trying to understand the words. His mouth opened, partially revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. Then he smiled; as he recognised an old friend.

"Hey, how are feeling?"

The smile faded, and a look of confusion swept over his face. *Was the question too difficult* I thought to myself.

His brows worked, desperate to process the question as his gaze dropped to the floor. He made a little grunting noise--indistinct from any words.

He coughed, almost choking. "O-Ok," he said with a struggle.

I handed him some shorts. "Put these on." I gestured at his legs, then pointed at my jeans. He understood and pulled them on.

When he straightened up, my worst fears were realised. A crimson bead trickled from his nose. It reached his lip, and he tipped his head looking at his reflection.

He buckled, and I instinctively reached out to catch him. His weight was such that I struggled to keep him upright.

In my arms he convulsed and coughed. Blood flecked the mirror, he coughed again.

He looked up at me and smiled--his perfect teeth, marred by blood. I squeezed him, reassuring him and rested my head on his shoulder. He mumbled something, and I looked up. He looked upset--confused. "Don't worry, it won't hurt for much longer," I told him.

"I'm sorry," he replied as a tear formed, "I'm sorry I failed."

Coughing again, he spluttered blood across the counter. He was getting heavy, and his legs buckled. Gently I lowered him to the floor, and sat next to him--his head in my lap.

It only took minutes before the life I'd given him ebbed away. I stroked his hair, as his eyes became glassy. There was no movement, and brushed hand across his face--closing his eyes.

"You're the best one yet," I told him, gently touching his cheek. His skin started to bubble, and I got to my feet, and then blistered, turning from pink to red. His body started to collapse, and loose its shape. After only minutes, all that was left was a pair of shorts soaked in a pool of pink fluid.

"Maybe the next one," I sighed.

If anyone tells you that making friends is easy--they're lying.