Re: Dream: Janus/Atticus
Janus had lived through imprisonment in hell, and before that another kind of hell. The void did not frighten him. It was not reassuring, not at all, but it wasn't entire anyway. Atticus was in it. There was the bed, the sometime couch. The bathroom there and gone. It was what Atticus made, and creation by sefinition could not be empty.
The farmhand's expression became a bitter shade of bland. "I know." The mentioned of the letters narrowed his eyes and creased his face. "Those letters weren't meant for you. Nobody should have them except those that they were sent to." This was an obviously personal objection.
Janus waited out the coughing. He had heard similar, and worse. His face was perhaps not quite so bland. He dug into a pocket, then another, came up empty, and shrugged. "Cigarettes were all i wanted when I got out, too."
He pulled on the green hat. "Go back to which one?"