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“’Earth hath not anything to show more fair’,”
The voice was deep and vibrant, unmistakeable and impossible. He wanted it to be real so badly that he willingly threw himself into the delusion, muscles locked, between the desire to turn and see him and the desire not to break the spell. Instead he spoke,
“Wordsworth. He was talking about the city in the morning though, I’m not even sure it’s the same city.”
“It’s always the same city.” There was a long pause, the cars thundering past emphasising the silence round them, then the man at his side spoke again, “What are you doing here Greg?”
“You tell me. If you’re a delusion you know what I know if you’re him you can deduce the answer.”
“You can’t do this.”
“You did.”
“Greg,” again the long pause, each second making it harder for Greg not to turn and look, “you must not do this, they all need you...”
Greg interrupted,
“They, we, all needed you.”
The voice spoke once more from a distance this time,
“Take care of them for me, Greg, take care of yourself, don’t let this all be for nothing, I will be back.”
Quick footsteps retreated but Greg remained, staring across at the city, trying to decide what to think, what to do until finally dawn broke.