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She pulls away from him then, confusion clear on her pretty face and for the first time, he notices how blue her eyes are. Cornflower, an Indian summer sky. Like ice in the deep.
This is the rewriting of a script he doesn't remember having a part in. They have to sedate him. Someone with callused hands holds him down for it and Q can only watch, wide eyed and terrified beyond comprehension as the IV line he had torn out from before slips back into his skin.
No words come, though, and Sanders is waiting for him at the bottom as usual. The world swims into view at a slower rate this time, from sand coloured ceiling to beep of heartrate monitor, from the feel of woolen socks on his feet to the cool smoothness of bedsheets under his skin. Q blinks and the hospital room snaps into blurry focus.
His back hurts like someone has set fire to it and left it burning, Q just focusing on breathing for a few moments against the pain.
He hates how it hurts to speak and how when the words leave his mouth, they come out a hoarse croak. When he swallows, the lukewarm water tastes like blood. The hospital room is a good one, with soft, calming colours and warm, late afternoon light streaming in through the windows.
Everything is nice and quiet. Instead, all Bond does is go to draw the inner curtains at the window, keeping out only the harshest of the light. There is no darkness yet in here, not for a long while more and Q is glad, turning his face to watch Bond seat himself next to his bed again.
Q listens to the turn of pages, to the drip of his IV bag. Bond is a fast reader, or maybe he just doesn't find anything of interest in the sphere of American entertainment. Soon, Q finds himself fighting to stay awake, even though the last thing he wants right now is to go back to sleep.
He has the magazine folded on his lap. Says "I'm not going to know if you don't keep your word, don't worry," as the world grows soft again at the edges, Bond's face a blur of colour.
Long, painful dreams that feel too real to be anything but. Tonight, Sanders corners Q and asks after his family.Write a Letter to the Editor on this Article We encourage readers to offer their point of view on this article by submitting the following form.
Editing is sometimes necessary and is . The members of Goat Island wrote Letter to a Young Practitioner collaboratively, and delivered it for the first time at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago on March 16, The text has been published in Goat Island’s Schoolbook 2, and Theatre in Crisis?, edited by Maria M Delgado and Caridad Svich (Manchester University Press, ).
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If you can't find any such exclusion, call the adjuster back. If they refuse to work with you, ask for a supervisor to see if they will be more cooperative. You might also ask your roofer to write a letter stating that they feel the skylight should be replaced as they don't want to be responsible for damaging the skylight.
Repair and maintain skylights, windows, and window hardware As needed Perform preventive maintenance of all metal doors (building entry, office, lab, and mechanical rooms).