For a while, Howard convinces himself that he doesn't really miss Orc, he just misses the convenience of a super-powerful protector. It's a lie, of course - Orc was hardly worth the late-night beer runs, endless backlogs of urine-stained laundry, not to mention living with a zombie in the basement. But Howard's a very good liar.
About eight months in it strikes him that he actually does miss Orc, and that Orc might not come back, and that maybe, just maybe, he's stuck with no souvenir from his old life except for a teenage businessman and some slightly stunted growth.
He doesn't cry. He doesn't go visit the beer tree. He doesn't check the pods or ask when the next podpop is.
"Huh."
There's an empty space, to his right and behind him, that should be filled with the bulk of his friend. Together they could tower over younger kids and block out the sun - not just Orc, but Howard by extension. His shadow is just a sliver of what should be there.
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About eight months in it strikes him that he actually does miss Orc, and that Orc might not come back, and that maybe, just maybe, he's stuck with no souvenir from his old life except for a teenage businessman and some slightly stunted growth.
He doesn't cry. He doesn't go visit the beer tree. He doesn't check the pods or ask when the next podpop is.
"Huh."
There's an empty space, to his right and behind him, that should be filled with the bulk of his friend. Together they could tower over younger kids and block out the sun - not just Orc, but Howard by extension. His shadow is just a sliver of what should be there.
Oh well.