Status: Critique greatly appreciated, nitpickers welcome! Don't be a silent reader!

The Key Chased the Blade

Hippie Jacket

The washing lady slapped a red-stained dress against the fence. I didn't know what it was, but seeing her disturbed me. Each slap sent a shock through my body, and when she wrung out the dress, it felt like my heart was being constricted tighter and tighter. I suddenly couldn't breathe.

"Ow!" Simon pulled out his hearing aids. Even I could hear the tinny ringing from the contraption. But I was more focused on the lady wringing water out of the dress, even if the cloth was getting drenched in the pouring rain. She squeezed and turned the stained fabric more and more, and made my heart clench and my lungs lock up.

I realized that the red stains were blood.

"Simon," I choked out.

He didn't react, still fumbling with his hearing aids. I forgot that he couldn't hear me. I made a grab for his arm, but I missed. I'd grazed him though, so he turned and looked at me.

"Simon," I managed, even though I knew he still couldn't hear me. I was really shaky. I couldn't even hold my hand up to sign anything to him. God, what was going on? I tried to suck in a breath, but it came in really stuttery and everything was just so whacked up.

His eyes widened and he took a hold of my shoulder. He shoved his hearing aids in his pocket. Are you alright?

I shook my head no. I could still hear the lady slapping the dress against fence. Simon wasn't facing her, he couldn't hear her either, and I wasn't about to let him see her and the bloodstained dress. Jesus. He'd probably flip the hell out. I tried to make a grab for him again, and this time I took hold of his arm. I couldn't grasp though, so my hand just slipped off him. What was wrong with me?

Slap. Slap. Slap.

Jesus Christ, I needed to get out of there.

Simon read my mind and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and then he carefully moved me down the street. In any other time I would've shoved him off me and punched him, but I needed him there. I wrapped my arm around his skinny waist to make sure I wasn't going to topple over. I was pretty terrified of falling, my legs were like jelly, and I knew that if I fell, I wouldn't have the strength to get back up.

But as we got further away from the washing lady, I began to breathe easier, and I slowly stopped shuddering.

"God, Simon, you can let go of me now," I said, but I forgot again that he still couldn't hear me, so I muttered a few curses under my breath and pulled myself away from him. We'd gotten under the cover of Market of Choice. I turned to face him and saw that Simon actually looked really afraid. I scowled at him.

Your lips are blue, he signed.

I'm fine, I signed back. What, do you think I have hypothermia or something?

Simon didn't answer, but his look changed. He didn't look afraid anymore. He just looked determined. This surprised me. The only time I'd see him that serious was when he was trying to save something's life, like an animal or a flower or something like that. That was the moment I knew he was really worried about me.

And that pissed me off.

"Simon-" But he'd already grabbed a hold of my arm and hauled me inside Market of Choice. "God, Simon-"

Take off your jacket, he signed, staring straight into me.

It's your jacket. I glared at him but peeled it off. I swear it was about twenty pounds with all that water in it. Simon took it under his arm and started off. I stormed after him.

Put your hearing aids back in so I can talk to you! I signed angrily at him, but he ignored me. Then I took a swing at him, but he dodged my fist and went straight toward a hippie clothing aisle. Jesus, what was he doing?

Simon grabbed a coat off the rack. Our Market of Choice sold clothing local people made by hand, with all the "natural organic fiber" crap and everything, and Simon had grabbed a yarn jacket. I think it was called a baja hoodie or something. And it probably had the ugliest color combinations I had ever seen, but Simon just took off with it and started toward the cash register.

"Simon!" I yelled at him. But Simon went up and bought the stupid hippie jacket. Go to the bathroom, take off your shirt, and put this on, he signed to me. I do think you have mild hypothermia.

"Are you kidding me?" I swung a fist at him and it connected with his chest with a loud whack! I'd probably knocked the wind out of him. I signed angrily, How am I supposed to pay you back for that?

Simon wheezed, but replied, You don't. I bought it for myself, but I'm making you wear it.

I looked down at the tag. It was a small. Simon could never fit into it.

"Screw you!" I flipped him off, but stalked down to the bathroom and ripped off my shirt once I got into it. Then I put the stupid hippie jacket on. It was really rough and kind of itchy, but it was warm; it actually felt nice. But I scowled. Simon was going to pay for this. He already did literally, but I was going to get revenge on him.

I walked out of the bathroom feeling ludicrous and enraged, but Simon was waiting for me with a bowl of soup. I glared daggers at him as he handed it to me. He was grinning his stupid dorky grin.

"What are you going to eat and wear, stupid!" I demanded, but he still didn't have his hearing aids in. I didn't have any hands to sign with either; I didn't trust myself to hold the big bowl of soup with one of them. God. I just hoped he'd read my lips. Especially the "stupid" part.

Let's go to Dutch Bros and get you some coffee, he signed. Then I'll get something to eat.

I glowered at him.

Come on. He smiled at me.

I wanted to punch him again, but I didn't. "Fine," I spat, and I followed him out of Market of Choice with my stupid, but warm, hippie jacket on. This was probably the worst day ever. And it wasn't even over yet.

Simon put in his hearing aids. "Looking snazzy, Noah."

"You can shut up," I said.

He gave me the "I love you" sign. I glared at him for a bit, but then gave a small "I love you" sign back. Then I looked away and brooded to myself. Simon just laughed.

This was going to be a long day.