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66.66% To: My Dearest Rose / Chapter 2: Still November 10, 1969

Chapter 2: Still November 10, 1969

It safe to she knows things I don't know, because that's all part of the human experience and I would like to assume she is human, though that isn't really an informed guess, or much of the truth. The activity of the evening currently remains at pleasant and polite conversation, she resumes her talk of birds of paradise and I nod along patiently, mostly because neither of us know how to mention the elephants in the room. Her slight fear of recent events, and whether or not we should return the abundance of ceramic elephants that had recently been gifted to us but didn't match the theme of the mansion or the vacation homes, as well as the fact the much of the day had been in black and white, except for the R and U for earlier, which had been red and yellow respectively, I'm beginning to wonder if we experience a transition from black and white to color, much like the Wizard of Oz(1939), when she points out something rather peculiar to me, that we should definitely return the elephants, and that we did in fact have a gift receipt. This is only peculiar because I hadn't mentioned the elephants out loud, and besides the fact that they where in the room, the only other reference to them would be the previous mention of the sexy Russian model , who had gifted them to us in the first place. I'm unsure if she understands fully the concept of gifts, because I know for a fact the she would have appreciated to receive the elephants a housewarming gift for herself. I guess people give the way the would like to receive.

"Have you seen her around?" she asked me, and though I appreciate the conversation we hadn't mentioned any her out loud for several minuets, and I found the slight possibility that she was looking at my thoughts slightly intrusive. I decide to mention this to her, and hopefully it was not a mistake, as I have been told I make a lot of those.

"Paulina I mean, you know, the sexy Russian model?" She turns from the fire to tell me this, as if Paulina were someone I was likely to forget, when it is fact quite the opposite, Paulina the sexy Russian model is a rather memorable individual.

"As if I'd forget Paulina, but you know what I might have forgotten?" I ask her "Whether or not I live under the same roof as a mind reader"

"Well don't you think that would be kind of rude, I just happen to be very good at guess what you're thinking, just like I happen to know you're going to get the door again."

"The door?" This is particularly intriguing, because most of the when someone says "get the door" it means that they have reason to believe someone is at the door. These beliefs could come from hearing the door bell, or maybe a knock at the door. In my case, I had heard no indicators that someone might be at the door of our fireplace room, but I trust her word as one may say in their wedding, in sickness and in death. So with that, I rose from my seat, and quickly made my way to the door. As I peered through the peephole once again, I spotted an addition to our growing collection of letters, the letter "S" written I a blush pink.

I called across the room, "my love, we have more letters, I rather hope this message isn't urgent". With that I began to walk toward her again, thinking about why someone would want to send a message letter by letter, besides to be annoying. She began speaking "if this is to be annoying, I think they're doing a rather wonderful job, don't you think?" She met my eyes as she told me this, and as I opened my mouth to respond to her, there was once again a knock at the door. I know she heard it too as she tilted her head toward the door, signaling that I open it. As I approached the door, a heard another, more aggressive knock, and when I finally was able to look through the door, I saw two new letters, following the first, our message now read, RUSTI. I turned telling her this, and she responded, crying out in exasperation, and sinking further into the couch. "For the last time", she yelled, "the kitchen will not be designed in a rustic style."

I approached her seated figure, curling into her, "I wonder why he wants a rustic re-design so bad?", I asked her. She chuffed, and began running her fingers through my hair, " I figure he saw me see the style sometime soon, and thinks we can be the trend curve or something." I turned to look at her, hoping to get any understanding of what she said. To be honest, as far back as we go, certain things remain just as allusive as ever.


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