Wednesday evening: To wake and reach for hands that are not there.

[firm_detective]

L sits on the sofa in the room he now shares with Misa. He holds a thick novel in one hand -- he's decided to give Gravity's Rainbow another try. He is careful of the book's position: Misa is sprawled along the length of the sofa, reading her own book, with the back of her head resting against his leg.

[Private to firm_detective and misamisal; dated slightly forward.]

Comments

[firm_detective]

*He continues to read for a few minutes, to the sounds of Misa getting ready, and then he notices something that filters in through his senses: although the water is running, there are no sounds of activity. He calls out to her,*

Misa?

*No answer.*

*In what feels like one movement, the book is closed and on the coffee table, and he is on his feet, headed for the bathroom. When he reaches the door, he calls her name again -- "MISA?" -- and again, there is no response.*

*There are several possibilities, but he knows, somehow, what he'll find when he opens the door. Not exactly -- not the toothbrush -- but the absence. The sinking feeling is there before it even has a real reason to be.*

*The first places are easy to check: she is nowhere in the bathroom, not in the cabinets too small to hold her, certainly not behind the glass doors that hide the bathtub. He turns off the faucet taps. The bathroom door is open, now, and she would not be able to leave the room without him noticing.*

*He leaves the bathroom and checks the closet: still nothing, even when he presses and knocks on the walls. He returns to the bathroom and does the same, with an identical lack of results. Then, in the bedroom, where he notices that her bag is also gone.*

*Although he knows he won't find anything, he even looks under the bed. It's a pointless exercise, of course; when he's satisfied that she isn't hiding there, he sits carefully on the edge of the mattress, puts his elbows on his knees, puts his face in his hands, and begins to think.*

*The most likely explanation is that she's somewhere else, now -- he can't say where. Most people who leave seem to be sent back to their own worlds, but he's heard of people moving from situation to situation, other places more or less like The Mansion, never going home. Either way, it's possible that she's gone forever.*

*The sinking feeling has been replaced by something else, a dull anxious ache with the occasional sharp flare, like a forewarning of disaster, like a slap in the face.*

*He no longer feels like sleeping.*