[continued from previous message]

Carlos looked young again, and happy, the kind of face he used to make just before he’d lift the young blond boy up up up over his head, onto his shoulders; the kind of face he used to make in the mornings at his rented house, standing over the sink,
cutting the little seeds out of the center of a banana because his Cho-cho didn’t like that part. Sitting there in the chair, Carlos smiled at C.J. winked one eye. C.J. blinked, blinked again. Carlos was gone.

Seven minutes later, at 4:47, the alarm buzzed again, and C.J. sat up in bed, swung his legs over the side. Shaking off the cobwebs, he rose, padded to the bathroom to take a shower.

Ten minutes later, at 4:57, dressed with wet hair, C.J. took the dog by the collar and left the bedroom, went downstairs, let the dog out the front door, walked to the kitchen, poured some dog food in a bowl. He looked at the clock on the microwave. It
said 11:00. He walked over to the kitchen table, picked up his watch. It also said 11:00.

Puzzled, he let the dog back in the front door and returned to the bedroom. The
clock by his bed said 11:01.

“Lisa!” he whispered loudly. “Lisa! Wake up!”

His wife stirred, rolled over, looked at the clock. “What do you want?” she
asked, “Why are you dressed?”

“How long have you been asleep?” C.J. asked.

“For a while, why?”

“What time?”

“About eleven.”

“Lisa, it’s 11:01. What do you mean you went to sleep a while ago?”

“What are you talking about!” exclaimed Lisa, growing annoyed.

C.J.’s mind raced. If Lisa had gone to bed at 11:00, how was it that he’d awoken and snoozed and showered and gone downstairs? It was now 11:02. All of that would have had to have taken place in one minute. It was at least twenty minutes worth of
activities—she would have still been still reading when he first awoke! The whole thing didn’t compute, not at all.

“Why don’t you get back in bed?” Lisa suggested, rolling back over, putting her head down on the pillow.

“Holy shit!” said C.J.

“What?”

“I just remembered!”

“What?”

C.J. felt a weird tingling up and down his spine. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “I think Carlos is dead.”

[And I think C.J. was a bullshitter, just like Carlos.]

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)