At this point I could start telling the more interesting stories
of how the very matrix itself seems to be malfunctioning. I could talk about
the two very strange things that happened in my house last night, or the two
strange encounters with strange people in the town today – one a young man from
the local high school, and the other a young woman I encountered in the
library. I had no explanation for the young man’s strange behaviour, but
decided that the young woman was probably one of Susannah’s friends on day
leave from the big house at the edge of town. And then there was the second
young woman to whom I said ‘hello’ because she’s an assistant in one of the
charity shops and I see her often. Her reply to my friendly greeting was an
unusually sharp ‘Mmm.’ But that was only slightly
strange, so maybe it doesn’t count.
As for the other strange stories, I’m not going to tell them
because there are a lot of normal people out there, and some of them read this
blog, and the normal reaction of normal people to strange stories is usually ‘this
guy’s mind is malfunctioning.’
It isn’t, you know. Beleaguered though it sometimes is these
days, it’s still functioning normally enough to recognise the strangeness in
strange things. That means you can’t be crazy, right? Right.
Maybe I should just relate how the cashier in the DIY store
asked me ‘Did you get everything you need today?’ after I’d gone through her
checkout. What kind of a crazy question is that?
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