Friday 12 September 2014

Music makes us extremely melodramatic.

(Not sure if you noticed.)
I can be a better artifact
Or I can be a bitter king
I should know what I'm made of
But I'm starting to believe
That I can never leave
Maybe that's how like-minded individuals find their kindred spirits. In any case,  I went to check on Satan this morning and I could hear the record playing through the window before I even got near the steps.

I almost turned around but my muse, oh, sweet troublesome Curiosity, well, she demanded to know what was going on in the mind of the Devil himself.

She's so difficult sometimes.

I stole a glance back at the main house and went up the steps and down the walkway and was about to knock when the music stopped and he opened the door. I can almost sense you now. Exciting times.

I laugh at Caleb's face. Your deck is loud with these shoes.

Don't you mean your shoes are loud?

Yes. So you heard me. You didn't sense me.

No, I sensed you.

What do you want, anyway?

You're the one who came to visit me? What can I do for you?  Is this business or pleasure? He grins, clearly relieved that I'm..talking out loud. It's been a long quiet week here on Testosterone Point.

Neither. About Henry's thoughts-

Okay. You know something? First, you're compromised so if Jacob tells you something I tend not to take it seriously because he can't do that and secondly, I am flexible enough to comprehend the whimsical thoughts of a thirteen-year-old boy. I'm not taking it personally. I was his age once.

No, you were never.

Only because you never knew me at that age.  

Right so you were never. 

Is that proper grammar, Miss Writer? 

Nope. Not hardly. 

He laughs. Am I forgiven then for the awful Nevada incident?

Nope. Not hardly neither. 

Jesus, Bridget, why did you come to me? And speak proper English, please. He waits, handsome in his navy cashmere t-shirt and volcabularic perfection.

To make sure you were okay with what Jacob said and that's affirmative so....see ya. 

Wait! Don't go so fast. Want some lunch? I know a girl who really loves her cheese toast. 

Another day, maybe. 

Promise me. 

Can't do that. Gotta go.

 The whole walk back to the top floor of the main house to check on Lochlan and report for inspection since I was granted seven minutes exactly, all I can think is, 'compromised'?