He was scrolling through Cass City photos on his computer screen while waiting for a client to show up, reminiscing about the old days. Ahh Pink, he thought while studying the 1st one that popped up. Rented the space opposite the town watering hole called Shenanigans. Reverse the colors and directions here and one could change into the other, he realized, as in an aftereffect on a sunnier day. Did Pink understand this when she chose the location?
And what about his office directly above it in the same building? Well, 3 stories above it, the intervening 2 floors still vacant. Have been for a while, so the padding might be permanent between him and his supposed true love. Yes, he determined not too soon after she arrived in town that he was smitten by the still youngish, almost child-like looking 38 year old “girl” from Nantucket with her semi-fiery blonde hair and her perpetual hot pink clothes and attitude. She told him one night at Shenanigans, the only “date” they went on if you can even call it such, that she use to not be this way. She was a 3n1 (or 3-n-1), a composite, she said, and cryptically left it at that. He’d studied the term since; hadn’t come across much information. Basically posts of this blog is all. Yeah, better make that he hadn’t come across much information period, blog still off-limits to him for his own protection. Pink, however, is a different story, par for her Nantucket golf course upbringing. There she was also known as: Wanda. Yeah, she was out there in reality but also in his dreams too, acting as a mirror to herself. He had to be constantly reminded that she could do those things, 4th dimensional tricks one could put it.
He kept scrolling through the Flickr pool of photos until the end, then tried a general search for “Cass City” within the popular image hosting service. Soon he came across this, the photo he’d hoped to find all along:
“Moby Prick,” he said laughingly. And everyone thought it was fable before he snapped the monster from Doug’s dirigible back in last April’s May. Of course some people, perhaps most, weren’t convinced, said it was a trick of the land and the light. He sends the photo to his printer, intending to have the evidence close to him this time. It seems to keep making itself scarce, much like the great whale itself, he realizes. He’ll print out 5 copies just in case.
Knocks at the door. His client. He only managed to print one copy out because of the interruption and then misplaced it before nightfall, hmm (more tricks).
(to be continued)
Sunklands 