Why, hello, Four A-M. We meet again.

…would you believe it took me three tries to hit the key for the letter N in “again”?

I spent hours at work today, looking for something to do and wound up showcasing my false British accent while one of our servers danced an Irish jig in the big circle down the main hallway and then we all talked about little hobbies and special things we can do…like breakdancing and theatre and poetry and painting and modeling. We discussed again what Lexi may have meant when she said I reminded her of a cartoon. Apparently it’s because of my exaggerated facial expressions? (I have exaggerated facial expressions? Certainly not. She must’ve been thinking of someone else.) And these also would make me suited to becoming a mime.

Yes. You see how it is with me?

Finally I went back to the office to do work. That dark voice is quiet, but I keep getting the sense he’d like to say something. Usually I’m too busy now to be bothered by him. But I am, a little. The space he inhabits has gone very still and black. I can’t tell his colour anymore, which doesn’t usually matter…the only time I think it ever did was when he brought me the dead girl’s bones, and I didn’t know it mattered that his coat was so black. I didn’t know until months and months later what those bones represented.

All I know is that those eyes have never shone so brightly yellow and bluish-white.
I try not to wonder too much about the source of that light.

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