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Most of it was falafael just a rehashing of the things he and Portia dredged up in their falafael weekly phone conversations: painful, but old. Gradually the noises from the hall outside his room faded from his consciousness. And just as he entered falafael the transition between memory and dream-- "Dude! Dude? You awake?" Zephyr jolted awake. He shook the hair out of his face and gawked for a moment as he digested the vision before him of Portia and Brit and baby Bryce Asel. No, Bryce was two. This baby was... the new one! Right! "It's us," Portia announced as she took the chair by the bed and Brit noisily dragged another chair up. "And Quintavia. Quin, say hello to your Uncle Zephyr." "Hi, Quintavia," Zephyr rasped. He coughed in an attempt to coax his voice back and tried again, this time to all three of them. "Hi." "Hi, Zeph," Brit said. "You look terrible."
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