“So you’re back already, huh? That didn’t take very long.”
The red visage sat at my feet. It almost looked like a cat, or a small dog. It was a peculiar form for it to take.
“Well, come inside. Let’s reunite.”
The puddle at my feet vibrated with excitement. I lowered my hand to it, and it morphed around my hand and attached itself to me. A crimson globule surrounded my extremity.
“You’re still warm. That makes sense. You must not have travelled very far this time around.”
If it could’ve purred, it probably would have. Usually when I donate blood it takes a few days for the blood to make its way back to me. The longest it took was nearly an entire month. This time, it must’ve only taken an hour.
I continue to speak while I make my way to my attic. “I sent you on a break only two days ago. Why did you come back so quickly?” I eyed the ooze surrounding my hand cautiously. It seemed almost embarrassed.
“Well, no sense in worrying about that now. You’re already back. How was your host?”
By this time I’m in my attic and sitting in my chair. I put my hand near the open bloodbag, and my blood scurries into the bag. I lift the needle on the opposite end, rusted and slightly bent, and jam it into my forearm.
The blood slowly makes its way back into me, drop by drop. Memories flow into me at the same speed.
“Here, have a cookie. It’s good for your blood sugar or something. Whatever, you’re alive and you deserve this cookie,” he handed me the cookie, a large, individually wrapped chocolate chip, and sat down on a chair next to the hospital bed.
“Thanks, you goober,” I reply.
I open up the cookie and nibble on it. “You were worried about me?”
He sighs. “Yeah, duh I was worried. You got into a wreck, and it was looking pretty bad.”
I smiled. “Yeah. My guts took a pretty gnarly hit. Didn’t break any bones though.”
“The doctors wouldn’t tell me what kind of injury you had. Can you?” He asked.
“Nah,” I begin. “I kind of didn’t want to know. Makes me feel too mortal. All I know is that my guts got kinda fucked and now I have some stitches on my front and back. All I want to know.”
He grunted, clearly dissatisfied. “Well, you probably had your intestines ruptured or something.”
I shrugged and took another bite of the cookie. “I don’t really care. It’s a miracle I’m alive, and I’ll call that fine.”
“You were bleeding a lot,” he says, trailing off.
“Yeah. It was a huge stroke of luck. Yesterday someone donated blood of my type,” I inform him. I take another bite of the cookie.
“Yeah, you’re O+ right? Pretty rare blood type,” He scoots in and gives me a kiss. “You’re just as rare of a boyfriend.”
I laugh. “You are too, you goof. Though we might want to hold off on kissing. I might get infected or something.” I laugh some more. So does he.