2 - I am even the fool of fortune.
[They'd told him the castle would do strange things. That it could turn the world on its head and make reality into something even he would find...well...odd. And, as much as he might wish it, he wasn't actually crazy. Not really.
So this time, when he woke up to find himself in Stormy's apartment with the window shades pulled down tight and his girl calm and beautiful and breathtaking beside him, he knows it's not real. And he knows it isn't really home. For one, the phone doesn't ring. No one knocks on the door. When he risks peeking out through the blinds, there's no one walking past. And, maybe the most telling of all, there are no ghosts. Even Elvis doesn't intrude.
Here in this strange castle, there's no one reaching to try and draw him out of his self-imposed solitude.
He knows it's all a lie, but he doesn't do the right thing and try to expose it. Instead, tucking his journal in a closet, he does something he knows he shouldn't. He pretends.
The first day after the headspaces fade is the hardest. Even if Stormy's eyes had reproached him for his self-delusion (because even in his head, she wouldn't let him get away with such a thing without comment), it was worth it to have her there. When he wakes up alone in the castle's default room, it's the loss of her that lingers with renewed vengeance.
After a day of mourning, however, he gets up and heads out of his room and into town. Wallowing won't get him any closer to seeing her again, so he'll just do what he does best and keep going.
He wanders the stores in town, looking at things without actually buying, before eventually taking a chance on the journal.]
I don't suppose anyone here could use a frycook, could they? If there's anyone that would find it useful, I can make pancakes so light you'd think they're floating. [there isn't even the slightest hint of boasting in his voice. He's just stating a fact] I don't think Terry would mind sharing me with another grill, so long as I can't get back to Pico Mundo.
So this time, when he woke up to find himself in Stormy's apartment with the window shades pulled down tight and his girl calm and beautiful and breathtaking beside him, he knows it's not real. And he knows it isn't really home. For one, the phone doesn't ring. No one knocks on the door. When he risks peeking out through the blinds, there's no one walking past. And, maybe the most telling of all, there are no ghosts. Even Elvis doesn't intrude.
Here in this strange castle, there's no one reaching to try and draw him out of his self-imposed solitude.
He knows it's all a lie, but he doesn't do the right thing and try to expose it. Instead, tucking his journal in a closet, he does something he knows he shouldn't. He pretends.
The first day after the headspaces fade is the hardest. Even if Stormy's eyes had reproached him for his self-delusion (because even in his head, she wouldn't let him get away with such a thing without comment), it was worth it to have her there. When he wakes up alone in the castle's default room, it's the loss of her that lingers with renewed vengeance.
After a day of mourning, however, he gets up and heads out of his room and into town. Wallowing won't get him any closer to seeing her again, so he'll just do what he does best and keep going.
He wanders the stores in town, looking at things without actually buying, before eventually taking a chance on the journal.]
I don't suppose anyone here could use a frycook, could they? If there's anyone that would find it useful, I can make pancakes so light you'd think they're floating. [there isn't even the slightest hint of boasting in his voice. He's just stating a fact] I don't think Terry would mind sharing me with another grill, so long as I can't get back to Pico Mundo.