Dimensia Page 8

  Chapter: Four.

  Intrigued, I felt hesitant in the same passing thought. The place looked to be a bookstore slash Voodoo slash occult slash anything-goes kind of joint. At first glance, one would assume the place to be abandoned, or at least up for lease. Having an un-kept appearance, the windows had cracks and were so filthy they were hardly transparent. Weeds had grown through cracks in the sidewalk. Bricks, casing the exterior had begun to erode, and large chunks had fallen on the sidewalk. Much like a slip and slide, unsure of what I was getting myself into, my gut instinct was to pass it by, but intrigue had taken hold. As I entered the front entrance, I heard a bone-chilling scream; I jumped, went stiff, the hairs on my body standing at attention. Frozen in the doorway, I paused momentarily, nervous, confused, but saw no one around? I looked up at the doorframe, most doors have a bell that greets a guest when entering; this place had a scream box. Initially, the place gave me the creeps as I ventured into the unknown, mystified. I was a drag queen at a tractor pull. 'The people working here must think I'm lost,' I thought. Displaced, the store's foul odor reminded me of sweat, pigs' feet, and bad breath; masked with Chanel perfume. Absorbing the stage, I saw books and books galore. Stacked to the ceiling with no organization whatsoever, it was as if someone had thrown the books into piles, which had grown to the point of chaos. Some of the piles had grown to upward of ten feet tall, compiled of books proclaiming prophecies, hypnosis, astronomy, astrology, Darwinism, vampires, dragons, the occult, superstitions, supernatural, with most un-familiar to me. Feeling overwhelmed, behind the counter was a collection of small jars that seemed to contain human hair, others with what looked like blood, venom, and various organs. Animal or human, I was uncertain. Gagging and instantly becoming nauseous, I had to look away. Walking about aimlessly, a book seemed to stand out more than any other. Was it beckoning me? At first glance, one would think nothing of it. It was old and worn, from a different existence. I reached to retrieve the book from the pile as dust filled the immediate five-foot radius. Holding my breath and waiving my hand through the air, the pile began to shift as I took a step backwards, worrying that the pile could avalanche and bury me alive. Seconds later, the ruble of books had settled, but I maintained book in hand. The book felt fragile, as if at any second it could crumble to pieces in my grasp. Cracking the spine, I leafed through the pages and realized an odd consistency throughout it. I found it peculiar to say the least, but the book had words not typed, but printed, as if it was someone's memoir. Scanning the pages, I looked for an author or year of publication, but found neither. As I silently read bits and pieces of a story concerning an ancient civilization that had mysteriously vanished. It was written from a journalist's perspective that had lived among the people. Enthralled, I was startled by an older lady's voice which was rather rough, low, and raspy.

  "Are you doing okay sweetie?"

  "Yes," I non-saliently replied, as I turned to direct my attention to the person speaking. I saw an older woman standing behind the counter with a large red snake wrapped around her neck. Startled, I knew this expression was visible on my face. I tried to act cool, like nothing was out of the norm, when she reached out her arm and extended her hand my direction. Nervous, somewhat confused, I stood, staring blankly.

  "It's okay, touch my hand." she said. Staring, thinking why I should do such a strange, random request. All thoughts came to a halt; it was the eyes, her eyes, eyes of a blind woman. I slowly and cautiously walked towards her and reached out my hand.

  "I'm sorry. I'm just scared of snakes, that's all," I said, clearing the nervous bulge in my throat. Seconds between us, an awkward silence evolved, when she started to laugh hysterically; crazy town population unknown. Face to face, with inches between us, I saw her teeth cavity rotten, stained brown, with breath that reeked of curdled milk that was left out in the sun for weeks. Her hair was ratty and nappy. Flies buzzed about and I was certain that they nested their eggs in her un-kept hair. Her eyes were bluish-gray and glazed over, like a foggy, smoked glass. Her arms had deep scratches, as dried flesh peeked from underneath her nails. Realizing, she had self inflicted her wounds. Her face was dirty, with wrinkles beyond her years. A mole was positioned on her chin, and stood alone. One might have confused it with a gumball had it not been for the three black hairs protruding. Her clothing was unclean, abnormal, and worn. The snake whisked its tongue at me, slithering to reveal a medallion draped from the woman's neck. Fastened to a strand of rope, the medallion was the exact picture of the cover of the book I had clutched under my arm, which I found unsettling. After examining more thoroughly, the medallion had two snakes climbing, intertwined along a dagger. The lady, with drool running from her mouth, hadn't stopped laughing. She abruptly stopped, and a low, demonic, raspy, cigarette voice, came out of her,

  "The snake is my eye's. I want you to grab my hand." My heart pounding in my chest, I found myself repeating her statement in my mind to fully grasp it. I looked around the store planning my exit strategy, looking persistently at any and all exits. I thought, 'I will have to bolt at any second,' as she grabbed my hand. Frightened, unfortunately for me she had a firm grip while she stroked my hand as if petting an animal of sort, feeling her fingernails begin to dig in. I nervously thought to myself, 'great. Not only am I scared out of my mind, I'm being petted by an old, blind, gypsy lady, with a red venomous snake around her neck.' Keep in mind, the snake was slithering and hissing at me. Before I could remove my hand, she started speaking loudly in a foreign language, as her head tilted back, her eyes following the motion, nothing visible but the white of her eyes. In disbelief, she began to shake uncontrollably. Seconds later, coming to an abrupt stop, she released my hand as my arm fell to my side. In shock, I had lost control of my feet. Unable to run, I stared, intrigued, as she lowered her head in a falling motion. Then, slowly raised it as if she were trying to look at me,

  "Fisher, I know what you're here for," she said with a grim grin. Now I'm freaked out! Not only did she call me by name, she also put some kind of spell on me. I was certain of it.

  "Wait here, I have something for you," she said. Okay, this was my opportunity, she was headed back to her little spell area, and I had my chance to run. I really wanted the book I had in my arm, but didn't want to wait. For all I knew, she was coming back with her son, who might be a deformed-disfigured-giant, a serial killer, or a mutant, who would lock me up in shackles and torture me or possibly eat me? After mustering up the courage to run, I saw her hobbling towards me with the assistance of a walking cane, with a skull handle and foreign writing down the shaft. Thinking, 'for an old blind lady she's pretty quick.' Not quick enough in the moment, I had no choice but to ride the wave. I knew that if something happened, worse case scenario, I could out run her for sure. Coming to the realization, that if I saw any deformed-disfigured-giant, creature, son-looking person . . . well, I was pretty much up poop creek in that scenario. As she returned, I hadn't moved, and like a statue, was frozen in place. With my mind in chaos, she leaned forward, motioning with her index finger, as if she wanted me to move closer, to whisper something. Strange, odd, Ricky Martin, not wanting to do so, I cautiously leaned forward and in the process, heard a loud scream. Startled, I jumped clean out of my shoes, at least three feet in the air and took off running towards the door. Not looking back, not stopping for anyone or anything, knocking over a bookshelf in the process. Arriving at the door, two customers stood in the doorway. Experiencing breath deprivation, with sweat beginning to build, the scream I heard dawned on me to be the delightful door chime. After a moment of confusion, the customers stared blankly. Sweating bullets, with my heart racing, the two customers suspiciously glanced towards the counter. Judging by the look of suspicion etched on their faces, I realized, they must have been thinking I had just robbed this old lady. Inhaling a deep breath, I attempted to regain my composure,

  "Is everything okay?" one of
the patrons asked, with a misleading grin. I swallowed, trying to catch my breath.

  "Yeah, everything's delicious, just got a-uh . . . a little scared, that's all." Embarrassed, I turned back around and headed towards the counter, picking up the bookshelf I had knocked over. Seconds later, I arrived at the counter, where the old lady hadn't moved. Regretfully, I apologized thrown into a tizzy,

  "How much do I owe for the book?" I asked, as she grinned,

  "Just bring it back when you're done. It's on the house." she replied, in her deep, raspy, dark voice. Extending her arm, with a business card stuck between her index and middle finger, as I casually reached out to accept the card.

  "Be careful son. The path you're headed down is a path less traveled. Steer clear of any and all dark beings; they are the rulers of the Other World. Without their invitation, you are trespassing." Confused by her barbed remark, and slightly disturbed, I simply grabbed the business card, placing it safely in the front pocket of my jeans, and thanked her for the book, making my way toward the exit.

  Outside, it felt as if it was a different world. Feeling the warm sun on my skin, I felt revived and thankful to be alive. I assertively proceeded to walk toward my place, revisiting the strange encounter in my mind. Minutes later, I arrived at my apartment. As I began setting down my things, I heard a knock at the door. Checking the peephole, I saw it was Comfort, and opened the door to greet her, then explained the progression of what had just unfolded.

  "Have you ever been in that store?" I asked,

  "No, no way. That place is crazy with a K." she laughed in response,

  "You think?" I replied rhetorical in all acts of rhetoric, as we laughed, dismissing the incident.

  The rest of the afternoon, Comfort and I hung out until she had to leave for work. After she left I picked up the book I received earlier from the snake lady and started to read. The book, which took place in the late sixteenth century, was written by a journalist of Puritan decent who had found a tribe of Indians called the Venimas. The Journalist claimed to have lived among the tribe, the tribe having grown to accept him as one of their own. He shared, fortunately for him, the Venimas thought he was a prophet. As I read, my understanding of the prophecy was a white man that would show the Venimas the ways of the Other World, but in reality, vise-versa. Doing such, it showed how to respect their world as they have respect for ours. His interpretation of the Other World was a multi-verse, or distant land. The Journalist gave stories of the tribe's rituals, culture, history, and was fascinated how the tribe had survived. The book was truly inspirational, some of the stories the Journalist described regarding the shaman seemed fictional. Sorry, the shaman was the healer of the tribe, a divine leader, with special powers from the leaders of the Other World.

  Continuing to read, the journalist went into rather great detail explaining the beliefs of the tribe, pertaining to the Other World. There were stories of people who had passed and how they were gone but weren't. He thought those who had passed were now living in the Other World, and at times could return to be with them. The Venimas claimed to exist, a parallel universe. They believed to be real and furthermore present, or co-exist. The Journalist stated that he himself was slowly coming to their beliefs, only because he had seen things that were truly remarkable, in the realm of unexplainable. That is, without having seen it first hand. The book had drawings he had replicated from the sacred scrolls the Venimas had painted on hides. His opinion, what looked like a map of the Other World, which was very detailed, elaborate, and spellbinding.

  I found the book to be entertaining, but didn't put much thought on the matter. After all, it was a book, a fictional book at that. Sitting on a stool at the counter, I continued to read the book for the remainder of the night, until I could no longer keep my eyes open, and decided to call it a day, proceeding to bed. Ironically, this night, mid-sleep, I had a strange dream. Not like the earlier dream, this one involved the snake lady. The setting was at a big bonfire, and the snake lady was present, only much younger and believe it or not, somewhat attractive. I watched from a safe distance as she danced around the fire, with the snake dangling from her neck, with a group of fellow occult drumming and chanting. Holding a book high above her head, speaking aloud in the foreign language. She then turned in my direction and opened the book to the map section and began pointing, while speaking in the foreign language. Then leaped, but a distance too far for a leap, it seemed as if she somehow gracefully glided towards me, while continuing to point at the map. And then I awoke, but was drenched in sweat, as I sat up in bed, I realized I had the book grasped in my hands and was laid open to the map. Finding this peculiar and somewhat unsettling. In that I specifically recalled placing the book on the counter. Freaked out, I closed the book and placed it back on the counter and tried to go back to sleep but couldn't. My mind raced with ideas, and I felt scattered brained. Unable to sleep, I got out of bed and walked to my computer to Google the word Venima. Shockingly, I found an article of a secret society that believed snakes were creatures of the Other World. The article claimed that the secret society believed that snakes are creatures that can exist in both worlds. As I continued to read, the article provided stories about the pragmatic society, the culture, and of things they believed. Some of which I found not plausible but radical, gnarly, a little far fetched, extreme, and goldfishy.

  Trying to make sense of the madness, I came to the conclusion that the snake lady had placed some kind of spell on me, which is why I had the dream. Grabbing the book, along the binder was a picture of a king cobra snake. Hello, operator? It made perfect sense. Not-to-mention, what a coincidence that I remember the creation story, involving the tree of knowledge, (which should have been called the tree of death) that Adam (Atom?) and Eve (Evolution/evolve?) weren't supposed to partake. (Perhaps the rib is a metaphor/symbolism for DNA?) As it is told in the creation story, the serpent convinced Eve that their eyes would be fully open if they ate from the tree, which they were forbidden to, however, did. In return, God cursed the serpent by saying,

  "You will crawl on your belly, the remainder of your days." Which I had thought, would had to have been a snake. In my opinion, they weren't very original in coming up with a secret society. The creation story is only the most romanticized story out there.

  I then logged off my computer and decided to try to get some shut-eye. Seeing that I had concluded the weird day I had encountered, I fell fast asleep. When I awoke, I began getting around for work, excited to have a job. On the way out the door I snatched up the book to take and return to the crazy lady at the bookstore. I hoped I could pop in unnoticed, drop the book and bail. After walking a couple blocks, I arrived at the bookstore. Entering the front door, nervous, somewhat afraid, I heard a scream. Of course, why not, the delightful doors chime. Recognizing the familiar, unsettling smell, I continued to approach the counter, manned by an emo kid, around my age.

  "Can I drop this book off with you?" I posed.

  "The lady that was working yesterday let me borrow it."

  "Sure, but there was no lady working yesterday man," he smiled, half-cocky,

  "Yeah right," as my stomach churned.

  "The blind lady with the snake," I grinned in response, concerned and partially irritated. He smiled, rolled his eyes, dismissing me,

  "Dude, I don't know what cloud your on," as he quickly glanced at the book,

  "That's not even our book, and there's no blind lady that works at this bookstore bro." As a sudden chill swept over me, embarrassed and somewhat troubled, I simply thanked him for his time and realized how stupid I must look, and decided to leave. Outside, I stepped back on the sidewalk and closely examined the store, thinking, 'I could have possibly been confused or it was another store?' But after a thorough inspection, I realized that was not the case. No prize in my cereal box. I then continued to walk towards work. En route, I tried to convince myself it
was in my dream, and that I had dreamt what had happened yesterday as I looked down, book clutched under my arm. Unfortunately no rationalizing that one, ey rabbit.

  At work, I kept wondering what significance the book had, and what I had to do with it all. It was definitely strange, and I had never really experienced anything of this nature. After a couple of hours into my shift the lunch rush was over. On my way out the door, the manager stopped me and asked,

  "Fisher, can you pull a double, it would really help me out?" Pleading with puppy dog eyes. A double meant working the dinner shift as well. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't care to, but seeing all the weird things that had been happening with my downtime, I jumped at the opportunity. Not to mention Comfort was working the night shift and the possibility to make some extra cash. Hurrying home to drop off the book and to grab a quick bite to eat, I stopped by Comfort's apartment and informed her that I had picked up the dinner shift, and asked her if it would be cool if we could walk to work together.

  After grabbing a quick bite to eat, later that afternoon, en route to work I shared with Comfort the unsettling information I had learned earlier. How the snake lady didn't work at the bookstore. Not-to-mention the book wasn't even from there. She agreed it was weird, as I explained my theory about the book, and explained the details of the secret society,

  "Wow. You attract all the freaks huh?" as she laughed. Well, I didn't laugh because I was actually kind of worried about the dreams, and the simple fact I didn't know, troubled me.

  That night, work was busy. Saturday nights I discovered you could make some pretty good money. I made forty-eight dollars on the lunch shift, and a whopping bill-twenty-two on the dinner shift, which was not-to-shabby for a days work. It was perfect actually, because Comfort and I had a date the following day, our first of many if I had anything to say about it. After finishing my assigned side work, I checked out with the manager and was free to go. Walking home from work, it wasn't long until I arrived at my place, where I decided to get on the internet and try to do a little more research on the Venimas.

  Searching the web, filtering through the countless pages of useless information, I discerned there wasn't a great deal of knowledge or information surrounding them that was readily available. I basically concluded that the Venimas were a pre-literate society, a hunter-gatherer civilization, with strong rituals and culture. I was frustrated because I could not find any further resourceful information. I logged off my computer and went to bed.

  Mid-sleep, the golden hour, I had a dream, the same dream I had the day before, with the same lady, and came to in a cold sweat, with the book lying open in my hands. Worried, I felt confident she had put a spell on me, and geeked out at this point. Slamming shut the book, a story flashed to my mind. I grabbed a box of matches I had in a dresser drawer, and proceeded to the kitchen sink. My Grandma had once shared a story pertaining to my Dad and his sister, my Aunt, concerning a weegie board that they had been given.

  "Ever since they had it, weird things started to happen. They would store it in the closet, beneath some blankets, and the very next day, it would mysteriously be on top of the pile." Continuing, I recall,

  "They kept it in your Aunt's room at the time; she would never sleep in her bed, because something one night levitated her off the bed, while choking her around the neck. Choking with such a grip that she nearly died of suffocation, with bruises the next day as evidence." My Aunt I was told, slept underneath the bed after that incident out of fear for sometime. My Grandma also explained how my Aunt's room became the coldest room in the entire house, even though the heating system seemed to work properly.

  "We tried to throw it away, but it would somehow always resurface. It didn't matter where we placed it. Somehow, it always found its way back. Finally, we decided to burn it in the trash barrel. Hoping to get rid of the negative energy or spirits once and for all, and indeed that seemed to be the only way. And it worked!"

  At the sink, violently ripping out pages from the book, while lighting each one on fire, seconds later, my smoke alarm started going ballistic. It was so loud and obnoxious that I worried it would wake my neighbors. I had been so caught up in the moment that I had forgotten I even had a smoke alarm, and of course, with my luck, it was placed adjacent to the sink. I quickly grabbed a towel and began waving it in front of the smoke alarm, attempting to direct the smoke, or fan the smoke away.

  "Fisher" Comfort yelled, entering my apartment. Visualizing smoke towering from the sink, and myself, a raving lunatic at three in the morning, waiving a towel around, she quickly ran to the sink and turned on the faucet, running water over the flame-lit pages, attempting to extinguish the flames.

  "What are you doing?" she asked. I realized that I hadn't thought it through as well as I should have, and how crazy I must've look to her. I wanted to tell her the truth, but how crazy would I sound?

  "I have to get rid of the book. It's the only way," I said in distress. At the sink, she shot me a look that needed no accompaniment. The look was crazy. I saw it in her eyes. Well, not the actual word 'crazy' in her eyes. But a crazy look in her eyes. About that time, her Brother emerged,

  "Is everything alright?" he asked, standing at the doorway, half asleep while unveiling a look of uncertainty. Comfort had begun to dry her hands with a paper towel,

  "Yeah, Fisher just left a-uh, candle burning that caught a couple of magazines on fire, luckily nothing serious. Everything's cool." He looked at me wearing a faint smile, shook his head in disapproval, and closed the door returning to bed. I then walked towards the bed and grabbed a seat.

  "Is everything okay?" Comfort asked. 'Now I am officially the biggest dork she has ever known,' I thought to myself. 'Not-to-mention, she probably regrets the day she came over to borrow sugar.' Lying has never been my forte, so I proceeded to tell her about the dreams I had been having, and finished with,

  "I felt I needed to burn the book, it's the only way." She smiled as she retrieved a hair tie from her wrist, and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

  "Okay, I believe you." she said. Which much like an honest politician (glorified car sales man) came as a surprise. I mean, I had a hard time believing it and it happened to me much less someone else. As she stood, headed for the door, she stopped and turned to leave, narrowing her eyes.

  "Are you crazy?" she asked with a serious demeanor. With a fading smile, I looked at her and felt troubled. I was suddenly drowning in an ocean. Wailing my arms about and kicking my legs, I was being tossed around like a rag doll. Back to reality,

  "I might be," I said as I looked down at the floor, more than embarrassed and feeling extremely ashamed.

  "I was just kidding, did you think that was a serious question?" she asked, as she smiled, cue music!

  "Goodnight," she said, and turned to leave, closing the door behind her. Shortly after, I fell back to sleep.

  Daybreak, with morning's breath fresh, I finished burning off the rest of the pages from the book. Only this time, took precautionary measures. I removed the battery from the smoke alarm and placed a towel underneath the door to keep the smoke from escaping and entering the rest of the building. When finished, I put on some music (Local Natives) and picked up my place a bit and did some much-needed laundry. When all was said and done, it was around three o'clock in the afternoon. As I finished putting away my clean clothes, I heard a knock at the door. I walked to the door, checked the peephole, and realized it was Comfort. She, standing in the hallway, was all dolled up. She looked amazing. Wearing a flowery summer dress, with her hair down, dawning on me, ready for our date. I had been so distracted with everything else that I had almost forgotten about our date. As I opened the door to invite her in, she smiled upon entering.

  "How did you sleep?" she asked, with a mischievous grin, sensing a bit of sarcasm in her voice,

  "Just fine and you?" I grinned, embarrassed.

&
nbsp; "What do you have planned today pyromaniac?" she asked with a flirtatious laugh,

  "Your call," I suggested with a smile, seeing as I didn't really know the town as well as she did.

  "I figured you would say that," she said as she smiled. I then continued putting away the rest of my clothes, and prepared for our date.

  On our date, we had a hog-killin time. It was more fun than I ever would have imagined. We went to the local county fair, which was a little dodgy, but fun at the same time. We rode the tilt a twirl until I was ready to hurl and the bumper cars until I was seeing stars. Comfort managed to convince these two tyrants to team up with her in an all out bumper smash down. As you may have guessed, the victim of their devious bumper gang was I, but a blast all the same. On a side note, I learned that Comfort is afraid of heights, thanks to the Farris Wheel. As the night progressed, we played almost every game at the fair, and lost almost every game at the fair, that is, until I played the dart game. Yes, I am the master of darts, thank-you very much; your welcome. Not to brag, but I won a stuffed animal. After the game we decided to fill our stomachs with none other than the best funnel cakes ever, and devoured another. With all the festivities going on, as much as I wanted to watch the drag show, I figured that might not be the ideal first date, and decided to leave.

  As we drove home from the fair, we were both content in the mellow atmosphere. Compliments of music I had pre-selected, in hopes of setting a mood or vibe were provided. With the elegance of the starlit night, the windows rolled down, the cool summer breeze whispered sweet words. Fever of adolescence, I reached for Comforts hand. Extremely nervous, I didn't want to come across as a sexaholic, looking to have a one-night romp session, a notch on the belt. Not-to-mention, what if she didn't have feelings for me like I had for her? Then, I would have crossed the invisible barrier, known as the friend line. As I analyzed the situation, felt the action was appropriate, and placed my hand on top of hers. Looking out the window, Comfort turned to look at me and retracted her hand, befallen with a confused expression.

  "I'm sorry Fisher, I-uh . . . don't you think it's a little sudden? I thought we were just friends?" Okay, sucky, suck, suck. I felt so small in that moment, like a smurf. On top of my regular insecurities, awkward. Looking for words, I had none, and felt embarrassed. Basically, really-really-re-hilly embarrassed. Talk about canary feathers hanging out of your mouth. Let's not forget, I lived across the hall from her. It wasn't like some random girl I could avoid or never see again. Above all, I really liked her. Neither of us spoke, we shared seconds, which at the time felt like minutes, of stony silence. When Comfort, although illegal, unfastened her safety belt strapped over her chest and slowly leaned over the middle console of my car, getting uncomfortably close to me.

  "What are you doing?" I asked unknowing, as she raised her hand, index finger extended, placing it gently against my lips. Trying to focus on the road to drive, confused, she leaned in closer and planted a kiss. In that moment, I didn't know what to do? Feeling a flood of emotions, unexpected, feeling my toes curl, butterflies fluttering as if they had perched on a coca bush prior. I quickly checked my passenger side mirror, defiant, without using my turn signal, turned onto the first side street I came to. I then pulled to the side of the street and parked under a street lamp and looked over at Comfort, who was sitting in her seat looking at me as if nothing had happened.

  "You're mean," I said, with a consuming grin.

  "How am I mean?" she asked, with a misleading smile. Nervous, but excited, I leaned over to the passenger seat and placed my hand on the back of her head and slowly leaned towards her, my inner voice thinking, 'I hope my breath smells okay.' I had such tremendous feelings for her. I had never felt the emotions involved with caring for someone as much as I did for her. Lost in the moment but enjoying every second, with megatons of butterflies fluttering in my stomach, looking into her eyes, I felt the reciprocation. At this point, sitting on the middle console, I leaned in for round three,

  "Dagnamit. Get-a-room-you-fruitful-teenage-passionate-lovers-makingout-in-a-car-underneath-a-streetlight." Someone voiced, as I pulled back. To be honest, I was impressed someone had said all of that in one breath. Standing feet away was an old man who appeared to be walking his little dog, hunched over, finger waiving, sending us bursting into laughter. I quickly jumped over to the driver's seat and started my car. Placing my car in gear, I hooked a U-turn and booked it, looking at Comfort smiling ear to ear.

  "Hater," I said jokingly, bringing a laugh from Comfort. Continuing to drive to our apartment, I glanced over at Comfort, who seemed to be at peace. She seemed to love life. She seemed content, which showed and actually glowed. I can't truly explain how infectious she really is. Perhaps quantum entanglement, but from the first time I laid eyes on her there was something about her I found nauseating. I loved how spontaneous she was, and full of energy, and how she always made me laugh. To this day, this night is one of my fondest, most cherished, if not, best days of my life.

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