Tzeporah 17

It's the week before Tzeporah joins Revenue; I'm bed ridden with a bad flu. I'm at my place, not wishing to be a burden on her. In retrospect, this is a huge error, buy hey hindsight is always 20 - 20.
A very clear vision comes to me, a sense of absolute knowingness. I clearly see her with four bottles of aspirin lined up, starting to swallow the lot. I should climb out of bed, phone and try to talk her out of it, but I feel too ill to move.
With no other option I opt to pray. Yes I start by admitting I'm one of the least wonderful people walking the planet and I of all people have no right to ask for anything. However, she's younger, a good person, doesn't deserve to die over being temporarily down. So, please send a wave of nausea which will cause her to throw up the lot. And no, I don't expect something for nothing, you can take my life in payment.
When I awake, I'm in what is clearly her bed and the flu is totally gone. Walking to the bathroom, the mirror yields a total shock. Well uh that is, for sure what is going on the head is me, the real self; yet it's her body. Too tired to think, I lie back down.
The coroner's verdict is death by accidental poisoning. Confidentially I'm told there is a 99.9% certainty that he suicided, but since there is no note, they give benefit of the doubt.
I have the body cremated, will scatter the ashes on the water when I next vacation in Victoria.
Revenue proves to be a nightmare journey straight into hell, but not for the reasons I imagine.
In contrast to my previous term clerical job, there is no harrassment in Business Audit.
There are two sorts of sadists floating around here; those who indulge all the time and those awho indulge whenever the whim arises. The latter group spots me as a kindred soul and absorbs me with a rapid pace.
My challenge never is work performance, getting sufficient files of sufficient quality done. It's trying to remain a reasonable human by only showing my teeth when I feel the taxpayer in question has it coming. And yes I freely admit I'm a bit less than perfect doing this.
Karen proves a surprise. In no time, she has spotted me as an imposter, yet hangs on loyally, dispensing advice as we coffee together.
As we go to a coffee house at the six month mark, something in her manner suggests heavy artillery incoming. She steers me toward a quiet corner with a gesture more fitting for a Feldwebel (Sgt/Maj) than a friend.
Leaning forward, too earnest tone, "okay Colonel, enough pi**ing around, today you act. Enough of you saying, 'maybe later'. Look I'm not trying to be nasty, this is for your own good. Why? The two guys in question may not last long, compared to most that are available. So, how do you feel about S&M? If a guy wanted his ass turned purple weekly, surely you'd oblige?"
I sigh, "that is so last year. I've changed, matured, mellowed. That stuff all seems pointless."
"All right then, a TV sports addict. Downside is you'd never get him doing his share around the place, get probably a quarter or less of the attention most women consider necessary. Upside, he doesn't drink to excess, or smoke or gamble."
Compared to everyone else she's mentioned, this guy sounds like pure heaven. Why play around? I smile, "ok, set me up for coffee with him."
Encouraging smile, "that's the spirit, you've come a long way," then picks up her cell.