OPENING
The searing rainbow light toned down into forms, revealing a sleek room inside a camper truck. There was an old man lying down the bed and a white medium-sized dog beside him.
“Are you finished with work?” the old man asked with a rough voice and coughed painfully.
On your hands were a tray of freshly harvested eggs and vegetables that you lay on the kitchenette table.
BODY
The dog wags his tail and opens his almond eyes but staying comfortably on the bed as you prepare an egg soup.
The old man suddenly groaned loudly, covering his face with both of his bony hands, stiffened by emotion. You have come to recognize this ritual of his as him recollecting something shameful from the past that has gotten more acute when he’s bed ridden.
After the soup was ready, he dramatically raises his hands on the air, “Hand me the storybook!” he cried with wide owl eyes that almost popped out of his head, it looked more comical than unsetteling.
You grab the book and soup bowl but he stubbornly refuses to consume the soup in attempt to foolishly prove he’s strong although he admits it smells wonderful.
CLOSING
You tease and tempt him by having a spoonful hover around his mouth that the restraint he’s doing becomes noticeable even when he tries putting on a stoic face.
A short time after, he gives in and takes a sip still acting dignified. The bowl was satisfiyingly emptied and had read his book just before he finally get ready to sleep.
Half awake, he mumbles “I have a quest! I must fullfill the duty to find all possibilities of how reality could be through fantasy,” taking a slow relaxed breath “death only loops you back where you started but you’re free explore and create alternative paths if you choose to do so… You know, I had a strange dream that you and I were part of a story…” Then his breath evened out.