32

I’d moved on. The library that use to be in this place: no more. A gap instead. 31 increased by 1.

All because I pressed the button.

Or not.

I sometimes dream about the Blue Boy. Or someone like him. Verbally abusive, but not really on purpose or intentionally. Just part of the overall dense atmosphere. Yes, dense. Bad juju I suppose. Like Earth itself in a way, in a manner; one blue thing becomes the other and visa versa; interpenetrating. I nibble around on the periphery now. I think he understands.

I call them out and they back off. All is well.