It was a strange combination to absorb – the everyday concerns of the town doctor stuck in the middle of a discussion of his early days in seventeenth-century London.
My life was an unending, unchanging midnight. It must, by necessity, always be midnight for me. So how was it possible that the sun was rising now, in the middle of my midnight?
I wondered how long it could last. Maybe someday, years from now.If the pain would decrease to the point where I could bear it. I would be able to look back on those few short months that would always be the best of my life.
Bears, I muttered, adding a new fear to the pile. That would be just her luck, wouldn’t it? Stray bear in town. OF course it would head straight for Bella.
My first language, the true language of the soul spoken only on our planet of origin, had no word for betrayal or traitor. Or even loyalty- because without the opposite, the concept had no meaning.
My first feeling was that there was no way to continue. Writing isn’t like math;in math, two plus two always equals four no matter what your mood is like. With writing, the way you feel changes everything.
