Friday, March 2


I reach the office this morning in a mood blacker than my coffee. Another sleepless night, clues and mysteries racking my brain. The office phone rings all morning. I ignore it. It keeps ringing. I pick it up. An old friend is own town, she wants to meet up, buy me lunch. I can't see when my next paycheck is going to arrive. I'm not too proud to accept. Besides, it'll be good to see a freindly face.

Well, friendly as it gets.

We eat, we talk. She's well. I'm working hard. The job is fine. Lies burn my throat and a smile threatens to tear my face in two. She gets a phone call, apologises for leaving early, and rushes out. A grumpy waitress puts the bill in front of me. Have I just been cheated of my lunch?

It doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. She's a friend. But as I count the change in my pockets, my stomach sinks deeper and deeper. The expensive meal turns dark inside me, turns to poison, turns to sickness and bile.

But it does matter. I've been robbed by someone I took to be a friend. One hand drifts inside my jacket. Providence awaits inside.

The mist descends. What am I doing? Damnned fool, it's just lunch. Pay the bill. Go home. Find some dirt for Seth. With trembling hands, I pay the bill and thank the waitress. What is becoming of me? I'm getting paranoid. Jumping at shadows, seeing deamons where there are none, always assuming the worst.

I head back to the office, unplug the phone, and sort through the accounts Seth gave me. Numbers aren't out to get me, but I make sure to keep Faith in sight as I work.

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