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“After all, who is ever threatened by a Librarian? (Except for that one librarian who hunted a seven-year old Danny across state and provincial borders, endlessly, tirelessly over the span of three years to try murder him for accidentally moving away, with the library’s copy of “The Berenstain Bears and the Bad Dream” book. But that’s a story for another time. Where were we?)”

“You joke, but Lovecraft really was deathly afraid of all sea life,” Rudy was raving. “Among other things, like music and black people,” Danny conceded. Yu shivered, “Well they are evil.” Ashleigh finally decided to jump on the conversation-wagon, “Octopus or Africans?” “Like that, right there,” Rudy said as though whatever point he was trying to make had been proved. “We’re always applying moral attributes to actions and objects. We like to compartmentalize. We are a nation divided in so many ways. Politically, economically, geographically.” “This coming from a guy who jerked off to an Eisenhower biography?” Yu said, almost as a non-sequitur if it weren’t true. “I wasn’t reading it; it had just fallen open!” Yu karate chopped him.”

“Danny left the store, confident that he may have found a way to tilt this day a little more straighter standing, into something that didn’t so much resemble Pisa’s monument. Tracks of fate had begun to run a little too perpendicular with him today, rather than the parallel direction they usually run. He was realizing that parallel wasn’t so bad, no, in fact, he kind of missed it. Mostly, though, he just wanted some coffee. With each step, he felt as though a stony weight lifted off his chest. It had been there all morning, that heaviness, like an invisible albatross, a cartoon cinder block holding him down. He hadn’t realized the true size of it until, all at once, it dropped away, disappearing into the day without even a sound. Just a breath. His chest expanded as he took in as much air as he could hold, feeling good. Decisions were always cathartic, no matter their size.”

“As the days began to feel like they were all bleeding into one another, the lines separating them becoming but a blurred gradient resembling lines not at all, with the world continuing to spin regardless of mortal toil, the tectonic plates shifting beneath our feet, and people growing everywhere around, for him, at least one thing remained constant: the aromatic scent of coffee tinging the air, kissing his nostrils. Some say that no true satisfaction could be found in instant gratification. Danny begged to differ as he moved to pour his first cup. Coffee, our way of stealing time that should by rights belong to your older self. Sipping the hot bean water, he felt ready~”

“As seemed to be the theme of his days recently, Danny was questioning his reality, questioning his dreams, questioning his mind, questioning what was real, what was imagined, and then questioning why. “It’s as real as you want it to be, Danny,” barked that voice again that definitely wasn’t his. He was feeling displaced, like an outsider, as though he were simply doing a pale impersonation of himself. And not even a good impersonation either, with steps too long, breaths too quick, smile too wide, blinks too slow. Get a hold of yourself, idiot. So he searched the room, searched his world, interrogating the shadows, prodding the corners, acknowledging the spaces, seeking for something to ground himself.”