His name was Lewis Jacobs Lyman.

He loved nothing more than Alice in Wonderland,

The Wizard of Oz,

The Chronicles of Narnia,

and The Lion King.

One year ago,

we met at an audition for a play.

He was funny,


and he really made me feel balanced.

It didn't take long for that to go away.

Three months after we had met,

he left.

He told me it was over,

and disappeared.

My strongest memory of him

from those days

is the smile he always wore.

The smile he would flash at passerby on the street,

the smile that immediately brightens your day.

The smile that

that haunts me in my dreams, now.

In my nightmares.

It was hard for a while,

living without him.

But I managed.

I had friends to help me through it.

He showed up at my flat the day after I saw him again.

He was prepared. He was alone,

but prepared.

I was unconscious before I realized it was the same man I had seen in the theater.

In his cruelty,

he was almost kind,



Then he gave me the notebook


I still have it.

I don't want it,

but I'm going to keep it.

In case I may need it again.

Then he gave me the notebook.

He told me to write in it.

I didn't want to.

So he took my finger.

And I wrote for all I was worth.

And then

The days after are a blur until today, I

I woke up in the small place Sir Thighpiece had rented.

He was sitting there, by the small cot,

looking as if he hadn't slept in days.

(From what he says, he hasn't slept in a long time.)

His dog, too,


she's ever so sweet.

And she gets along wonderfully with Sierra and Mab.

Speaking of whom,

they are both fine.

A neighbor watched over them while I was

while I was



I'm okay.

I'm getting better.

I'll be on my feet tomorrow, and then

then I'll be ready to smile again.

I hope.

He told me one last thing, before Sir Thighpiece showed up

He reminded me

He reminded me of the cat

Curiosity killed the cat

Satisfaction brought it back

He warned me

"Eight left,"

he said

but I'll make it through.

I have Sierra.

I have Mab.

I have my friends.

I have you,

whoever you are, reading.
This is me:
Kathleen Schrödinger.
That is me.
That's me.
no it's not
is it?

2 curiosities:

AmalgamationSage said...

"That's me./ no it's not/is it?"

Oh Katy Schrody. If I could see straight right now, it would help. But I think you need to go. don't stand still. GO. Run. Get out of there. Run.

Schrödinger said...

I'm sorry...I'm sorry...but I can't just run.

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