A Hospital for Souls

As the days grew colder and colder, Aunt Alice’s burial grew closer. Ever since Abigail cut Oli’s hair, they felt that daily visits just weren’t enough; so they agreed to stay in Abigail’s room together. The only reason they left the room was for breakfast and watching the sunset in the attic. Their days consisted of reading to each other, insulting each other, and talking about anything.
One frigid November morning, Abigail calmly awoke, and heard the snores of the scrawny man next to her. The room was fairly dark, and the only light came from the window, and the light shone over her eyes. "Today’s the day," she thought. She could not think of anything more than the funereal; the anxiety was building up and her heart rate began to accelerate. She couldn't feel comfortable in her position anymore; she tried her best to turn her body without waking Oli.
Oli stirred and yawned, "Are you okay, Abi?"
She closed her eyes and repeated, "Today's the day, man."
He yawned once more and pulled Abigail closer to his body, "Your aunt's funereal?"
"Yeah..."
"Are you afraid to read your eulogy?"
"Not afraid but I'm...yeah I'm afraid."
"You'll be great. You're gonna give the best eulogy any of those people there will ever hear. They will cry; they will love you; they will--"
"Okay, okay, thanks. But you’re probably just saying that because you wrote it."
He rubbed his eyes, "I didn't "write" it per say. You wrote it, I just polished it. It kinda works like a makeover; you have the pretty face, I just applied the make-up."
She raised and lowered her eyebrows, “Sure…”
“Don’t worry because you’ll be great, you’re gonna give the best—”
“Alright, man, I get it. I’m just really nervous, like…I just can’t even. Like I am unable to even.”
“Even what?”
“I don’t even know, but I’m really nervous,” she could feel herself worrying a bit irrationally.
“Know, Abi, don’t you think you’re being irrational about this?” Oli asked.
“No, Oli, I did not know I was being irrational. I did not know that I was sent here because of my irrational nervousness called ANXIETY.” COMING FROM THE SCHIZOPHERNIC, she thought.
“I’m sorry Abi, how I about I go up there with you?”
“Could you tell everyone to turn their backs?” she condescended.
“Abigail,”
“I know, I was just kidding,” she sighed, “I can feel my heart pumping.”
“Everything’s gonna be great…just think about Mac and Cheese,” he spoke.
“Can you elaborate on that?”
“Whenever I felt stressed, I’d think of Mac n Cheese,” He yawned, “It works. Now sleep.”
“I can’t, sorry,” she stared out the window at the moon, she was sure that it was at least three in the morning. Aunt Alice, this is happening. As of today, at two pm, you are officially dead. All I hope is that while you’re watching over me, please make sure you miss my eulogy. I’m sorry, Aunt Alice, for whatever I did…or didn’t do rather. I should’ve seen that you were hurting too, I should’ve spoken more, I should’ve paid more attention, and I should’ve been there.
Abigail’s eyes staid wide open; she watched the bright stars in the sky and saw how they twinkled; she watched how those stars faded and transformed into orange and purple horizon.

Oli and Abigail left for breakfast early that morning, and were both unusually quiet. They sat at their usual table and waited for the kitchen staff to cook. Abigail stared out the window at the six o’ clock sky, at the frost on the grass, and naked trees stripped of their leaves; fallen and forgotten. She pitied the trees; how they spend the cold, unforgiving winters with bare branches.
“Poor trees,” she whispered, and looked at Oli, who was surprised to hear her voice, “I pity the trees. They have nothing to protect them from the cold.”
“Have you ever thought,” he responded, “that maybe they don’t want protection? They shed their leaves every winter; maybe they want to be cold.”
She turned back to the window, and stayed quiet.
“There’s food on the counters,” he informed.
“Not hungry,” she brushed off.
“Abigail,” Oli asserted, “is this about the nervous thing? The quietness?”
She sighed and turned to him, “No, no it’s not.”
“Then what are you upset about?” he softened.
“It’s just that…I’m burying my aunt. A few months ago, I thought it would be the other way around, ya know,” a tear escaped her eye, “I guess this is why people hate when their loved ones ya know…wanna die.”
He just nodded his head, “Want something to eat?” She shook her head, and watched him leave to the food counter.

“Woah, you look so sharp that if I poked you I’d bleed,” Abi complimented. She ogled Oli in his all black suit complete with all black Chuck Taylors. He shoved his hands in his pockets and noticed Abigail staring.
He smiled and admired her outfit: the black strapless dress with shiny grey buttons down the front and large bow, along with grey, cotton stockings, complete with sleek black, flats, “Wow, you look…amazing, but…it’s the end of October, won’t you be cold in a sexy strapless dress?”
Abigail laughed, “Um not really, I have this really cozy grey sweater slash cardigan thingy. Thank you for your concern.” She stared at Oli, and Oli did the same. He moved closer to her, and pulled her into him by her waist. For a moment, they just stared in each other’s eyes; Oli leaned down while Abi moved on her tip toes to reach, when—
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Abigail moved flat on her feet again and Oli straightened up to answer the door, “Hello Marisol,” he welcomed.
“Am I…interrupting something?” she innocently asked. He raised his eyebrows and turned to Abigail, who sat on the bed.
“Not at all,” she bitterly answered.