I sat down at Phoebe’s desk. Why did I feel so strange? I took a red pencil out of a pencil box and tore a letter size sheet of stationary from a block. It was printed with drawings of meadow flowers and ladybugs, a typical little girl letter set.
I started writing, filling the candy colored paper with simple sentences. Later on I folded the sheet and filed it in my journal. The flowers and ladybugs give a cheerful, crazy character to my non-sensical statements:
Where is Phoebe? At Ally’s house?
The colors in the house are too bright, especially the blues and reds.
The edges of all objects are too precise.
The pancakes are too even.
Time is warped.
The woman in the kitchen is not my mother.
I saw a girl living in a blind man’s glasses.
I am going insane.
At this point I stopped. I thought of Penelope Hoffmann in her curved office. I had wanted to visit her today but something – or someone – had hindered me. That also was something that could not be proven.