CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

Harold sighed and from the bed he was on; next to the window that revealed the sun which was sinking into the clouds and letting out a bright orange hue; the one found on dying embers of coal, he shifted his butt uncomfortably like a patient in a wait room who is about to see a doctor on a personal subject.

“I need to get going, guys,” he said morosely as he took a long look at what the time said from his phone which was placed on his lap before shifting his gaze to the outside world where a flock of small, black birds were migrating northwards with noisy coos and chirrups.

“Where?” Trisha shot back.

Ever since the ‘fountain incident’ happened and they had come up with a bizarre theory to explain why Harold had found himself in a fountain gushing blood, she had been edgy and very uptight. But that theory was their last resort. Harold had said it was possible a student pushed him into it and didn't own up to doing so.