∞ [ LETTER ] || addressed to Room #521; misfired to the network.
DEAR ROOM #521:
Likely, you don't know me. My name is Amory Felix, and I'm technically your neighbor-- the room right under your floor.
So, there's this abandoned cabin deep in the forest surrounding my family's vineyard. It hasn't been lived in for years, full of cobwebs, rotted furniture. Back when I was a kid, the first time I discovered it, my friend dared me to enter. Close the door, stay inside for five minutes, and promise not to scream.
Have you ever known the feeling of a wet, frigid hand grabbing your shoulders in an empty room?
Of course, my friend thought: "Must be a ghost." Thinking logically, I explained to her that ghosts clearly didn't exist. It was all in my head. An ephemeral delusion. When I got home, I told my mother about the sensation. Then she explained to me, clearly: "Of course that was a ghost." Unfortunately, there was no doubting her.
What I'm saying is that I can be sensitive to certain sensations, sensations which are invisible to many people.
What does this have to do with the two of you?
Your magic-- power, whatever you call it-- tends to fluctuate when the two of you are making love. I understand it may be completely natural reaction, but for your sake and mine, I believe it's an issue we must address. You see, I can feel it. It keeps me up and gives me headaches. It's something like playing the stereo at 3 AM in the morning, while burning toast in the kitchen.
I'm not asking you to stop having sex. Even I'm not that much of a bastard. I'm just asking the two of you, politely, to be more aware of what you're broadcasting, and to make an effort to control it.
Please take this note seriously.
Sincerely,
AMORY FELIX
Likely, you don't know me. My name is Amory Felix, and I'm technically your neighbor-- the room right under your floor.
So, there's this abandoned cabin deep in the forest surrounding my family's vineyard. It hasn't been lived in for years, full of cobwebs, rotted furniture. Back when I was a kid, the first time I discovered it, my friend dared me to enter. Close the door, stay inside for five minutes, and promise not to scream.
Have you ever known the feeling of a wet, frigid hand grabbing your shoulders in an empty room?
Of course, my friend thought: "Must be a ghost." Thinking logically, I explained to her that ghosts clearly didn't exist. It was all in my head. An ephemeral delusion. When I got home, I told my mother about the sensation. Then she explained to me, clearly: "Of course that was a ghost." Unfortunately, there was no doubting her.
What I'm saying is that I can be sensitive to certain sensations, sensations which are invisible to many people.
What does this have to do with the two of you?
Your magic-- power, whatever you call it-- tends to fluctuate when the two of you are making love. I understand it may be completely natural reaction, but for your sake and mine, I believe it's an issue we must address. You see, I can feel it. It keeps me up and gives me headaches. It's something like playing the stereo at 3 AM in the morning, while burning toast in the kitchen.
I'm not asking you to stop having sex. Even I'm not that much of a bastard. I'm just asking the two of you, politely, to be more aware of what you're broadcasting, and to make an effort to control it.
Please take this note seriously.
Sincerely,
AMORY FELIX