“*Very* clever, ya’ll,” Daniel calls into the air, talking to the spirits he credits all this weirdness for instead of me. “*I* walk into the library that fateful day, ready to start a new chapter of my life. Oh I’ve been there many times before.”
“You have (!)” I said. That’s how we became friends.
“But not like this, not as one of the actual employees of the place. So I walk in, walk up the stairs and visit the admin offices to finish out my paperwork. So *excited*. Yet so scared. I’d thrown away full time employment at the, er, college to work on my art in the afternoon. This has now been reinforced to you.”
“To me reinforced this now has been,” I reiterate. “Through the blog, through the photo-novel. Through the *maps*.”
“Yes. Good. I’m getting the hand [sic?] of all this, Baker B. I really am.” And they’d yet to talk about the girl with the library eyes, the one who stood so small under a lamp in the corner when all this went down. Noodles, we could continue to call her. Although that’s not her real name. Time machine.
“Hold on, Mr. SPLAT, ha. I can even show you ascending the stairs. Continuation…”
“Look how happy I am — perfect.” But he still wasn’t talking to me directly.
Sunklands 