She stared out of the window at her neighbor's yard. She had a lock of her own hair pinched between her thumb and forefinger. Slowly she pulled on her hair, gliding her fingers over it, smoothing it out; an idle fidget that she had performed since she was small. The coolness of her hair felt good against her fingertips. She was deep in thought. So deep that she didn't notice that the magpie was back and picking at her Signe Tillisch apple tree again. Even if she did notice, she wouldn't have cared this time. There were far more pressing matters at hand.

She let go of her hair, turned away from the window and sighed. She walked back to her computer desk and sat down. She stared blankly at the computer monitor, then she opened the desk drawer and pulled out a blue leather notebook. She pushed aside her keyboard, opened the journal and set it down on the desk. She selected a pen at random from a glass cup that had once been used for beverages and positioned herself for writing.

"3.5.23 - I hate uncertainty. Right now, that's most of what I feel. This 'impersonator'... Somehow I know that they're not an impersonator. I don't know how I know this. It's a feeling. My instincts are usually correct. But this makes me feel uncertain. How do I know this? What do I do about it? I can't stop thinking about it. This is the perfect storm, the perfect situation to ignite my obsessiveness. If somehow, against my conviction, they are an impersonator that has been stalking me, I must nullify them. If they are not..."

She paused and chewed her bottom lip. Even though this was her personal journal, something no one but her would ever see, she felt embarrassed to admit what she needed. She wanted to be above emotion, above wants and needs, but that was impossible.

"...I need to know who they are."

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Author's Note: The journal entry date is for May, not March.


By Adaline Guerra