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The red glove sat down behind the desk, propped up his elbows, and sighed.
The doctor opened his casebook.
Doctor: Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?
The red glove answered: I’m having trouble with my relationship.
Doctor: This is the marriage counseling room.
Doctor: A young man like you……Breakup therapy is next doors, check it out.
The red glove hesitated, thought for a moment, visibly steeled himself, and made what seemed like a huge decision.
The red glove: Marriage, yes, I mean marriage.
Doctor: Un-huh. And your soul left your body to sign the papers just now, right?
The red glove: That’s not within my ability. I’m on the Sleepless pathway.
Doctor: ……
Doctor: Tell me about your problem.
The doctor sat back and crossed his arms.
The red glove: He……has a lot of problems, actually.
Doctor: Address them one by one, no need to hurry.
The red glove: For starters, he……he doesn’t kiss me.
Doctor: He doesn’t like being close with you?
The red glove: No, we’re close. He just doesn’t kiss me.
The doctor narrowed his eyes.
Doctor: Have you kissed him?
The red glove: I have.
Doctor: Did he shy away?
The red glove: He was. Startled. He broke into pieces.
Doctor: Into pieces?
The red glove: Yeah, into pieces. You ever seen insect larvae before? He split into something like those, translucent, a little squishy. His entire person scattered into tiny little worms. Seriously, they were all over the floor. I filled two buckets, and then I had to pour them together like—
Doctor: Wait.
Doctor: Let me think this through for a minute.
The red glove nodded, folding his hands on the table obediently.
Doctor: Is he still alive?
The red glove: Of course he is. He was in pieces, not dead.
Doctor: ……
Doctor: I just. I don’t.
The red glove: He’s not normal, per se.
The doctor decided to give up on thinking at that point.
Doctor: Let’s just talk about your husband.
The red glove: He’s not—What husband?
Doctor: As I said, this is the marriage counseling room.
Doctor: Are you married or not? Relationship is next doors.
The red glove: ……Fine, my husband, then.
Doctor: It’s a pretty big problem we have here.
Doctor: Your husband may be a little asexual.
Doctor: Your husband doesn’t want to kiss you, and runs away when you do.
The red glove: We already went over that bit.
Doctor: We have.
Doctor: I just wanted to say your husband again.
The red glove: Well, fuck.
Doctor: Are you married or not? Relationship is next doors.
The red glove: Fine, fine!
The doctor, satisfied with his revenge, let out a breath and picked up the pen again.
Doctor: When did you kiss him?
The red glove: When I first confessed. I bought a ring, and rang his bell with a bunch of flowers—
Doctor: Wait.
Doctor: This was before you were married?
The red glove: It was.
The red glove: He was staring at me, his face completely red, like he didn’t know what to say. I asked him if he loved me back; he nodded a little with a stunned expression, still didn’t say anything. It was so endearing I kissed him.
Doctor: How did you kiss him?
The red glove: I pushed him onto the wall and leaned over, it lasted a few minutes. After I finished, he took one look at me, and scattered into translucent worms……I’ve said that part before.
Doctor: You have.
Doctor: Fuck, that was sappy.
The red glove: You’re counseling marriage.
Doctor: Yeah. I should be used to this.
The red glove: You should be.
Doctor: Alright, go on.
The red glove leaned his cheek into a hand and sighed.
The red glove: And he makes me write poems for him.
Doctor: What sort of poem?
The red glove: About what he does. There’s a lot of that already, actually, they’re always on sale in bookshops, everywhere.
Doctor: On sale?
Doctor: So he’s famous.
The red glove: He is.
Doctor: Exactly what is he famous for?
The red glove: Scaring pirates into crying for mummy.
Doctor: ……That sounds familiar.
The red glove: The name’s Gehrman. Gehrman Sparrow.
The doctor wiped nonexistent sweat from his brows.
Doctor: Is he forcing you to write the poems?
The red glove: No.
The red glove: I’m happy to do it for him, but I’m no good at all. Not every beyonder of the Sleepless pathway is good at poetry, you know.
Doctor: Is he angry at you for that?
The red glove: He says I’m doing pretty well.
Doctor: Let me take a look.
The doctor accepted the sheet of paper and read the poems.
The doctor sighed.
Doctor: It’s not a big deal. It’s no problem at all. At the very least, I’m sure he loves you very much.
Doctor: If you want to improve, go bother the writers’ association. I can’t help you.
The red glove took his poems back and tucked them into his pocket. The doctor sighed for the fourth time that day.
He wrote a few lines in his casebook, and flipped a page.
Doctor: Actually, I don’t think the doctor next door came to work today.
Doctor: He had a patient last night who moved him to tears. Said he’s emotionally unfit to work today, never came in.
The red glove: Then how did he ask for leave?
Doctor: He prayed.
The red glove: Praise the Goddess.
Doctor: Praise the Goddess.
Doctor: You have any questions left?
The red glove: Just the one.
Doctor: Ask away.
The doctor pulled out a box of tissues.
The red glove: What’s that for?
Doctor: If you decide to start crying.
The red glove: I’m a nighthawk, I don’t cry.
Doctor: Don’t worry, this is just standard procedure. Now talk up.
The red glove: I just……I don’t think we lead very compatible schedules.
Doctor: You mean, at night?
The red glove: Yes……and no.
Doctor: Yes or no?
The red glove: Yes, literally speaking, but I don’t think that’s what you mean.
Doctor: Fuck. Why am I doing this?
The red glove: I only need two hours of sleep a day.
Doctor: And do you lose hair at all?
The red glove: I don’t think so.
The doctor took a tissue from his box.
Doctor: Your husband isn’t on the Sleepless pathway? Oh, right, Gehrman Sparrow is supposedly a Seer.
The red glove: Yeah, and Seers need their sleep.
Doctor: You get lonely at night?
The red glove: ……Yes, but it sounds weird when you put it like that.
Doctor: I don’t have a solution for this, except you sleeping a little longer every day.
Doctor: Getting out of bed in the morning is one of the most painful things in life, truly. Or maybe you could have him knock you out before bed. Anyway, I take it there’s nothing wrong with your……with that?
The red glove: It’s fine. He sleeps seven, eight hours a day, usually I just get up by my self and read for a while. Or write my poems. Or take a walk in someone’s dream, it works.
Doctor: Then what’s your problem?
The red glove: Recently. He’s been sleeping too long.
Doctor: How long?
The red glove: Five years and three months. Exactly three months, counting today.
Doctor: That’s a beyonder of the Sleeper pathway right there.
Doctor: ……And he never woke once?
The red glove: He may have, but……I’m not sure. He went into slumber by the side of his God. He left me a coin, and I flip it every day to divine if he’ll wake tomorrow. The coin always lands on tails, though.
The red glove: See? He doesn’t wake up, and he doesn’t kiss me anymore.
The red glove: It’s the poems, isn’t it. You guys never seem to like them.
The red glove: Doctor, why are you crying again?
Doctor: You write pretty well.
The red glove: Really?
Doctor: Really, I promise.
Doctor: Please……Captain.
End.