The Medicine

'I shall be in shortly,' finally came the response.

'Let me help you.'

'No. I will manage.'

'Lazar, you must forget her,' she cautioned softly. 'I suspect --'

'Just a few more minutes, Zafira,' he said, cutting her words off.

He didn't deny that it was the sad memory of the loss of a woman that was so destructive to his healing, and yet Zafira knew it was because of this woman that Lazar still lived, still bothered to wake each day and breathe, eat if she could get much down him, hobble around keeping his limbs supple, if not strong. It was so ironic. Opposing emotions pulling him apart, both good and bad for his health.

---- McIntosh, F. (2006) Emissary, Voyager, HarperCollinsPublishers, Sydney ----