In the morning as sunlight wraps the window shade I uncurl stretch upon sleep, allowing hidden spirits to touch my investigation and wake to Musette’s day off.
What you at to getting for? she asks.
It’s time to try again The Met, I say, like as though the voice within is saying, don’t stop yourself. Don’t second guess. That’s the lesson to be learned here. Body always dragging, up so much later and longer than her. Let dream kiss you longer. Sleep further rested, baby boy.
It’s too late, she says.
You’re probably right.
But we have to do something, she says. A person only gets so many days off in a week.
Her brother is out of town with I’Lill, camping with nature experts so we look up restaurants on our phone and decide to go to Shake Shack again. I mean, I had been wanting to go there all the while my parents were in town even though we never did.
It is a thirty five minute walk.
We can do it, says Musette.
It’s better than paying that ridiculous subway fair, am I right?
That’s when I become the Samurai Champloo.
Mugen, the fire cock.
Your time in the shadows has refreshed some of your dimensionality, says the judge.
Musette’s talking to me the whole while and all I can hear is her voice making up a constant tragedy tapestry.
I will watch her die or she will watch me die unless we are lucky enough to die instantly together, otherwise we might end up watching each other die while feeling death seeping us as it. Freezing was a feeling I always felt when I had to go into the Cash & Carry freezer for bags of ice for the liquor store. And I almost got lost in the woods, as some of you already are more than well enough aware.
I told you not to look back, says the judge.
I don’t know where backs and forwards are at the present moment.
My phone is alight with the former glory of ello. It is a weapon. Ghost of the soul connect. A personal assistant. A very close friend. A constant companion. Closer than your pets. Closer than your wife.
I’m using Google Keep now, collecting from everything and detaching myself from it for better viewing purposes
Training in the shadows.
It’s all falling into place, said Fox.
This is not the way to the truth, Mulder.
Eating Twizzlers Nibs stuffed with fruit punch that I told Musette to buy. She is mouthing the words of Scully. She has too much sugar in her and not enough water.
Wash it down with some cane sugar ginger ale, I say. You are clothed in the full armor of God. Diabetes could never touch you and your purity. You are a canvas for the good in life.
Scully is dying, she says. She has cancer in her nose.
What difference do you care?
Wracking my brain for the moment in time. My terminal is falling apart at the keys. Butchery in New York taking place at the moment.
I almost break her computer, just about stepping on it which would be tragic, not to mention dangerous, because then she might want to use mine which would require me to undertake a barrage of changes to prevent all of my secret living from spilling into her awareness.
It’s a tight hatch we dance upon here, I say.
These are the moments of practice which we undertake in order to prepare us for whatever may come, pushing ourselves to become better than we are, opening doors to become more professional while attaining greater mastery of the art.