( It felt like a Mexican standoff )

I heard him go out for his run and stretched out across the bed with an indulgent sigh. We were in Bloomington, Indiana, and my last memories of Bloomington were fond ones, for the most part. It was an odd town, with freakish people and a misunderstood man who I secretly still hold dear to my heart ( Read more... )

Andrew's gaze was steady, nearly unsettling, as he began to speak. "I came here with my parents when I was very young ( Read more... )

This story will come in phases, as I accept each step. Please bear with me.We were sitting on Andrew's couch, next to each other, drinking red wine. I was feeling warm, a little fuzzy, reminded of the last time I was drunk down in Mexico, mourning Fred with Mulder. How we often sat on his old couch just like this, how I missed that old, ( Read more... )

I went to Andrew's house last night and I have been a little shellshocked since I got home early this morning ( Read more... )

I didn't need to use my gun last night. The group was entertaining. It's a small group of mostly community college professors. One even teaches pathology. I did a lot of listening, my mind whirring with possibilities and mysteries and questions about the true origins of things ( Read more... )

I was sitting in a coffee shop, half of a bagel with cream cheese and a latte in front of me, because I couldn't handle my self-imposed exile any more. I'd avoided such spots because I didn't feel like talking to anyone and I am still cognizant of the fact that I am probably still a wanted woman ( Read more... )