Kneeling in front of the fireplace, I listened to the slow, even beat of my own heart. Blind behind the silk of Theo's necktie, I was left to my own thoughts and the ambient sounds of Theo working on the couch.
In the cool blackness of my hindered sight, I'd felt my mind slow down, no longer the rapid-fire torrent of sensory input it usually was. The rough strands of hemp bit into my wrists, and I was at peace.
Still, I wasn't immune to minor discomforts. Shifting slightly, I tried to ignore the way the fibers of the carpet were digging into the skin on my knees.
The slow, sporadic typing sounds stopped. "You okay over there?"
Raising my head, I addressed the source of the sound. "I'm fine. This carpet just gets scratchier the longer I kneel on it."
"Can you handle it a bit longer?"
