Writers of the Future, Volume 28 Read Online Free PDF

summer.
    Lan searched himself, finding bits and pieces of things Haigh had loved, and immortalized them in colored glass, glazing each piece with enchanted paint (left leg, front-left column, third down) and stringing them up into a wind chime to hang in the tree. It took a bit of time, but was easy to do while Jaddi slept at night.
    Once it was finished, he took the next evening to search for what was missing from his head. But when he got there, the workroom had been swept clean, probably by a few souls from town who’d been looking for their last deliveries. It was a kind thought, but it frustrated Lan that so many had been in such a place that’d been only his and Haigh’s for so long.
    Most of the shelves were empty and the desk had nothing but a small oil burner and a cracked clay pot sitting upon it. Nothing, absolutely nothing to fill his head.
    He dragged himself back to Jaddi’s house that night, dejected and overly lonely, where she promptly told him he wasn’t allowed to go back if it made him so upset.
    Instead, she had him help her around her house. Taught him stitch work so he could help patch the clothes she mended, since he couldn’t very well wash them. He helped clean as well, finding things to do to make her life a bit easier. He knew she didn’t need his help, but it felt good to be doing things for someone now that he could no longer help Haigh.
    His baskets gathered dust—not on the inside; that would be impossible with the enchantments. And not on the outside either since he was very much active. But around the lids and underneath the latches, a slight coating of dust always began to gather. When Lan noticed, he would spend hours unlatching and relatching each and every basket, pretending that they were still in use. Though that did nothing for his empty head.
    They were outside, Jaddi weeding her garden and Lan gathering what she’d pulled out to later throw into the forest, when a thought occurred to him. “Jaddi, is there anything you need me to hold for you ? I’ve got space, and I can make more now that I don’t need most of what is stored within me.” That last sentence almost choked him up, though he had no real throat to be closing up on him.
    She stretched and sat back on her heels to rest for a moment while she considered him. “I don’t really need you to hold anything. Most everything has homes in my house and those that don’t usually don’t stay long. But thank you for the offer.”
    She massaged her hands, plucking a piece of dried skin off before she bent back over. “Granted, if I were going somewhere that might be a different story, but I’m content here.” She paused in her work and stared out at Haigh’s empty house, a sad expression passing over her face, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared and she was back at her work.
    Lan felt his shoulders sag in disappointment. That’d been a perfect plan, exchanging Haigh’s things for Jaddi’s. It would have been bittersweet as he missed Haigh fiercely, more with each day, always hearing the man’s words in his ears despite him no longer being around. But it would have cured the constant headache he bore and helped Jaddi. He’d thought.
    “So what should I put in my head ? It’s been empty since Haigh died.”
    Jaddi didn’t look up as she was busy working a long weed out. “Whatever you want, I guess.”
    He stared at her, a little angry that she’d be so dismissive. And completely unhelpful. It wasn’t so much to ask for something—anything—to be given a home in his head.
    His headache became almost unbearable for a few moments, then eased as his eyes began to water. This was unnatural. He’d never felt any pain at all, at least not physically, before Haigh had died, and now he was stuck with an empty head that refused to be pacified.
    Jaddi thought it was emotional pain finding a bodily way out, but she was also a believer that if one thought something often enough it became reality. Not that,