Operation Sal | Sally Face x Travis Phelps

35

     Waking up in Sal's room feels like a fever dream.

     Travis feels a little better after sleeping. His mind is a little less clouded and his hair is a little messier. The ache in his leg and arms isn't as strong as it had been hours earlier.

   Sal's prosthetic is already strapped back on when Travis wakes up. He's able to walk steadily once he's out of bed. He goes the remainder of the night without having any strange visions or dreams.

Like a married couple, they stand together in the kitchen in their socks and pajamas, making hot chocolate. Travis almost can't believe it.

     Sal is chipper, flashing bright, crinkle-eyed smiles and looking directly at Travis's face despite his disheveled, pasty, frail appearance.

Travis manages a smile back at him when he's offered whipped cream. He's happy, genuinely, despite it all.

Sal sprinkles a dangerous amount of cinnamon into his drink, rocking back and forth on his feet, energized by the rise of the sun.

"Be careful," Travis watches with apprehension, "You're going to choke."

The blue-haired boy chuckles very softly, setting the plastic container of cinnamon back down on the counter, "Your concern is very sweet," he chirps.

He stares down at Sal's cup, covered in a thick layer of brown powder that seems capable of clogging just about anyone's throat, "I don't," he says slowly, "I don't think that should be your take-away from what I said, Sally Face."

Sal laughs heartily again and begins to say something else when suddenly the front door clicks unlocked and swings open. He perks up at the noise and looks over his shoulder.

Travis sips at his hot chocolate and pretends like he's not incredibly anxious to know who's just arrived. He rests his palm against the counter.

     Kenneth couldn't have found him so quickly, could he? Travis shivers. Maybe he could.

     "Sally!" a voice calls out, a woman's voice. It doesn't sound much like Ashley, the blonde notices. Of course, if the lock on the door had been opened, the person entering the apartment must have had a key.

Sal's shoulders slacken a little. He'd been hoping to see his father, who still hadn't returned home, "Hey Lisa!" he calls back from the kitchen, a bit of the playfulness in his voice fading,

It's then that a woman steps into the room. Travis turns around to look at her. She has a thin face, a long pointed nose, bags under her eyes, and her hair is dark and straight. He knows immediately that she's related to Larry.

     Meeting her gaze is almost frightening, the way her line of vision pierces right into him just like Larry's does.

     "Oh, hello," she says, offering a warm smile. Her eyes, dark and thoughtful, Travis notices, settle on his own for an uncomfortably long time. She's wondering what happened to him. "Who's this?" Lisa asks Sal, who suddenly jolts, likely forgetting that the two of them don't know each other at all.

"Oh," he begins, glancing at the boy beside him briefly, "Lisa, this is Travis."

Something about her expression changes just then. Her eyes widen slightly and her head tilts to the side as if she's bewildered to even meet him, "Travis," she repeats, nodding, "Right. Good morning, sweetie."

     Lisa's smile is genuine but it aims to hide the knowing look in her eyes, a look that — to Travis's dismay — is much too apparent to ignore. He attempts a smile back, but, predictably, it comes out wobbly and hesitant. "Hello ma'am," he nods his head lowly to her with caution, just like he'd been taught in church.