"Jane?" There was a pause as he peeked his head around the door, "What are you doing out of bed?!"
"I just wanted my pack. I need to write."
He sighed and set the tray of food on the table next to the bed after closing the door. "Well," he said with an evil smirk on his face, "Breakfast is here when you're hungry."
I sighed. How he knew I hated asking for help, I will never know. "Michael," It almost sounded like a whisper. I lowered my head, "I can�t get back to the bed."
"Are you asking for my assistance?" he grinned.
I smirked and gave him a look of both love and hate, "Yes, I am."
"Oh, well here, let me help you." He picked up my pack and set it next to the bed.
He walked back, bending over, putting his face next to my ear as he said softly, "Put your right arm around me."
I complied as he slipped one arm behind me and one ever so gently under my knees. I watched him as he carried me to the bed and laid me softly down. He fell foreword a bit, catching himself. He had an arm on either side of me and was looking at me with a looking his eye I had never seen before. Even to this day I haven't seen its equal. He began to slowly lean forward. The door opened. Michael stood up and looked at Wally with a smile.
"I woke up smelling waffles," Wally chirped innocently. "Birdie!!" he exclaimed when he saw I was awake. "You're up. How are you feeling?"
I glanced at Michael then smiled at Wally, "Sore." It was all I could bare to say.
Then I realized the severity of what he had seen, "How are you?"
"I'm okay. I was shaken up pretty bad for awhile."
I nodded, "Tell you what, as soon as I can move again, you and I will go for a walk back in that direction. What do you say?"
"Sure." He smiled and nodded.
"How about some waffles?" Michael said clapping his hands. Wally grinned and nodded. Michael smiled softly at me then turned to Wally, "You goin' to help me kiddo?"
"You bet." Wally grinned and headed to the kitchen. Michael followed him and looked at me as he closed the door.
I didn't move for a few minutes trying to figure out exactly what I was feeling.
My mind was clouded with confusion. The last thing I needed was to get romantically involved with someone twice my age, let alone in a town I may not stay in. I decided to ramble in my journal. I began to write the first things that came into my mind. Not thinking, just writing. I started to ramble a poem and let my self finish it. This is what it was: