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“Where are we?”
“Oh, are we playing questions again?”
“I don’t know?!”
“It means yes! …Oh shit.”
“Please be serious. My question still stands. Where are we?”
[Just a second earlier, our heroes – namely, young lords Rosencrantz and Guildenstern – suddenly and synchronously sat up on their bed and somehow managed to bump their faces against each other’s.]
[Just a minute earlier, they were lying in one bed (common for them, for they were a married couple) but (uncommon) head to tail.]
“I have no idea,” Rosencrantz contemplated for half a minute and scratched his forehead to accelerate the mental process. “Ouch.”
“Another question. Why?” Guildenstern gestured at what was left of their mysterious sleeping position.
“Maybe we weren’t alone.”
Guil turned his head first to the left, then to the right.
“Ah. There are more beds. An inn, probably?”
“What the hell are we doing in an inn? A very cheap one too, as it seems?”
“I hate questions,” Guil grunted.
“I love questions,” Ros said and added, “but sometimes I like answers better.”
He gently touched Guil’s upper arm with the tip of his fingers, and Guil pressed them there with his palm.
“I feel very uneasy,” he confessed. “Can we leave this inn or whatever it is?”
“Aren’t we waiting for something?” Ros asked stupidly.
“Why would you say that?” Guil narrowed his eyes.
“I have no idea.”
Ros moved around on the bed, his head on Guil’s pillow.
“Come,” he patted the empty space beside him, the rest of their narrow bed. “I won’t get up today even if Hamlet comes and throws a stone in the window and breaks it.”
“This is actually a great idea. Not the stone one, of course.”
They snuggled close.
“What about…” Rosencrantz hummed, but Guildenstern poked him on the cheek.
“No, not this game again.”
Ros shrugged and kissed Guil, “Okay.”
“Why, though… It’s me who always wants answers, right? How do you always win?”
“Because I’m better at it, obviously,” Ros grinned.
“One-love, you stupid.”
“Fuck.”
They stopped talking, and the eerie silence fell on them, disturbing their thoughts.
“Where are we, after all? How did we get here?” one of them asked, a couple of minutes later.
“Oh God,” the other gasped, and both went cold all over. “Maybe, we should ask ourselves… When are we?”
“Oh god, my forehead!” two voices yelled.
[Just a second earlier, our heroes suddenly and synchronously sat up on their bed and somehow managed to bump their faces against each other’s.]
[Just a minute earlier, they were lying in one bed (common for them, for they were a married couple) but (uncommon) head to tail.]
“Why were we lying like that?” Ros asked.
Guil turned his head first to the left, then to the right.
“Because you’ve been wriggling around all night again,” he pointed at the chaos their blanket turned into.
“Have I?” Ros asked stupidly and moved a little. “That explains thiiiii…” he dropped to the floor. “Fuck.”
He climbed back.
“You woke me up, by the way, when you fell in the middle of the night. And continued sleeping, so I had to get up and put you back on the bed,” Guil said
“Wait! You woke me up and I had to put you back on the bed,” Ros countered.
“You dreamt it,” Guil grumbled, making a face.
“Oh. You’re right! I definitely did!’ Ros smiled but then frowned. “That was a weird dream. And creepy.”
Guil looked at him with worry.
“I don’t want to think about it,” Ros said.
“My dream was awful, too,” Guil gently touched Ros’s upper arm with the tip of his fingers, and Ros pressed them there with his palm.
“There were so many heads,” Ros whispered in horror.
“Jesus, you mean decapitated?! Or whatever it’s called?”
“Erm… no, actually. Coins. Weird. Not a single tail.”
Ros moved around on the bed and snuggled, his head finally on the pillow.
“Come,” he patted the other pillow. “I reeeeeally don’t want to get up today.”
“This is a great idea,” Guil agreed.
[Just ten hours earlier, they had this short, yet emotional dialogue:
"Will you let me sleep?"
"Is it time for sleep?"
"Is it not?"
"Do you want to sleep?"
“You think?! And I don’t want to play questions!”
“I-forgot-how-much-love! Alright-alright, I’ll stop!. Damn, I love this game.”]
No more questions whatsoever were asked that day.