(no subject)
Charlie....isn't himself today. After a slow morning, mostly occupied with cleaning and light but time consuming things like showering and deciding to face people, he came out, but bypassed the bar entirely in favor of the lake. It being a fairly grey day, the place was less than highly occupied, so he was alone as far as he could see, sitting propped against the bottom of a tree and staring at the equally grey lake. The wind was chopping its surface into a lattice of wavelets and hollows, full of ultimately futile movement.
Didn't this look familiar? And not just to that little Sherwood trip a week ago. Last year Charles had been on a list of suspects--and then of probable victims--of a serial killer that had targeted singles in the data bank of New York's top dating service. Holidays just looked like they would never shape up for him. He didn't really know if he was alright with that yet, or not.
Didn't this look familiar? And not just to that little Sherwood trip a week ago. Last year Charles had been on a list of suspects--and then of probable victims--of a serial killer that had targeted singles in the data bank of New York's top dating service. Holidays just looked like they would never shape up for him. He didn't really know if he was alright with that yet, or not.