"Sometimes they do," he answered in a conversational tone and turned his gaze towards the floor to inspect the shards. Kaz bled a good long time after being parted from his heart. If one acquired a hole big enough, gravity did the rest.
While Don Juan slowly came closer, Sam got off the ledge of the tub and crouched on the floor to pick up the glass. The air seemed to offer him resistance and his hands moved slowly. Just as they struggled with the last button of his shirt, that was still done up and held the front together in the middle, they struggled with picking up the glass with the pace he had in mind.
Two shards lay glistening in his hands. Then Don Juan entered his field of view and he looked up to him. "You'll hurt yourself," he said to him.
He watched him step on the glass. Samuel could not look away. The first shard had rounded edges and left his skin intact. Don Juan too was not wearing shoes. The next shard had a serrated edge and cut right into his sole and got stuck. Don Juan did not seem to mind that, or he did not feel it, or not in a way that deterred him. He stepped on a clear tile and the next sharp piece of glass Samuel picked out of his path and kept in his hand. He gingerly took away the riskiest pieces, while Don Juan, like a sleepwalker, found his way to the bath and sat down on the edge. Samuel looked up to him.
"That's fine," he said. "There's worse things than some blood in water."
He put down the shards in his palm on a side table. With one hand he reached for Don Juan's ankle, now that he sat down and took his weight off it. "You cut up your foot. There's glass stuck in it," he said. It seemed natural that someone ought to get it out from there.
The lights and the fog made him feel like he was somewhere unreal. In the mirror across him, his own image moved and he watched it from the corner of his eyes, like it belonged to someone else.
While Don Juan slowly came closer, Sam got off the ledge of the tub and crouched on the floor to pick up the glass. The air seemed to offer him resistance and his hands moved slowly. Just as they struggled with the last button of his shirt, that was still done up and held the front together in the middle, they struggled with picking up the glass with the pace he had in mind.
Two shards lay glistening in his hands. Then Don Juan entered his field of view and he looked up to him. "You'll hurt yourself," he said to him.
He watched him step on the glass. Samuel could not look away. The first shard had rounded edges and left his skin intact. Don Juan too was not wearing shoes. The next shard had a serrated edge and cut right into his sole and got stuck. Don Juan did not seem to mind that, or he did not feel it, or not in a way that deterred him. He stepped on a clear tile and the next sharp piece of glass Samuel picked out of his path and kept in his hand. He gingerly took away the riskiest pieces, while Don Juan, like a sleepwalker, found his way to the bath and sat down on the edge. Samuel looked up to him.
"That's fine," he said. "There's worse things than some blood in water."
He put down the shards in his palm on a side table. With one hand he reached for Don Juan's ankle, now that he sat down and took his weight off it. "You cut up your foot. There's glass stuck in it," he said. It seemed natural that someone ought to get it out from there.
The lights and the fog made him feel like he was somewhere unreal. In the mirror across him, his own image moved and he watched it from the corner of his eyes, like it belonged to someone else.
