Maya wasn’t sick today. It’s the first time in weeks she hasn’t puked and we all hope it’s the beginning of the end of the morning sickness. The doctor, though, warned us not to speculate or raise our hopes. Many women get many good days and the sickness may continue. Talk about a party pooper. But I guess he’s right. We shouldn’t get our hopes up. I suppose I should know better after all that’s happened since I first entered the Parawerthan, but I can’t help it. Sometimes hope is all you have.
Sixteen and Irish (that’s how I’m going to refer to him for now) returned to my room this morning. Together with Armbranch, we spent much of the morning outside wandering around the compound. When I finally got around to asking him how he got here, he seemed hesitant at first to tell me. Then, after a few further prods from Armbranch, he started to tell me the most amazing story. Once again, he doesn’t want me to broadcast it here. But when I told him I’d been writing some short stories about this place he said it would be okay if I wrote his story down, too.
Considering the beginning of his story is one of the most exciting things I’ve heard (it’s even more bizarre that what happened me and Maya), I’m only too happy to oblige. In fact I’m going to work with him and see if we can maybe turn it into something longer. It’ll be good to work on something like that—especially seeing as how Dohan seems to have forgotten us.
He’s online again, reading something about Manchester City.
Categories: The Cadavat Compound