How it always seemed he was cutting her down. Her paranoia. How she had misunderstood.
And that letter – a really adverbially bad attempt at explaining.
She wanted him to know she had studied “his laconic” and carefully brushed and strung together his gems that had been half buried in the detritus of her own verbosity. Except she hadn’t said that. She didn’t remember exactly what she had written. She had started a rhyming poem that she was pretty sure was crap, and lots of other words plucked from here and there, but she tucked it into her journal. It did need to be said. Just… better somehow…
All the philosophising made her laugh now. It didn’t matter. Their mutual admiration, was like watching their hands pushing against either side of a curtain, trying to feel the truth of each other … when what they needed was to pull the damn thing down.
So now she was driving, and she should have let him play with the stereo, it was too distracting. But really, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. The only other driver they had seen all day out here, had a heart attack and careered into their lane.
It wasn’t their fault either, that they woke up. Seemingly further apart than they were already. In very geographically different hospitals as well. Someone near her was watching ‘Upright’, which rang no bells whatsoever, as she had never seen it. No bells at all were ringing. A cup of tea, however, and sleep, no doubt, would fix everything.
If they could just turn down the tv. She was craving reality. But then the nurse assured her, that if she removed the pain medication, she would have all the reality she wanted.
She looked at her, and started wondering why a large eggplant in the corner of the room was giving her medical advice.
He started looking at his phone by his bed, miraculously still working, and wondered who had downloaded the French learning app.
He decided to try it.
Music and Lyrics: Tim Minchin