His pen capped with a momentary
sense of triumph, the man disappeared.
Cecil poked his head out of the bedroom closet and into the empty
apartment. The man was gone. He snorted with satisfaction and hopped
onto the bed to continue his nap. Before laying down, he turned three
times.
Coincidentally, the phone began to ring.
13. Perfection
"Despair is the price one pays for setting oneself an impossible aim."
-- Graham Greene
After waiting for nearly a minute, Justin slammed the phone onto the
receiver, muttering something about nine hundred damn miles and not
having the decency to be home when someone was calling. He had to
call. Something was wrong. He didn't go in for that malarkey about
being in touch with the universe or having sympathetic vibrations reach
him from a different plane, but, damn it, if there was something wrong,
you did something about it. And he knew something was wrong. But
would have been sent to the loony bin by one of those interns before he
could explain it all to another human being properly.
He didn't give a damn (as those who ventured near him would often
discover) about what everyone else perceived as reality.
Pages:
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56