Memoirs Of A Nobody

All of a sudden, angrily, Justin jutted from his seat there in the lounge and stormed into the lou; which, in a somehow refreshing coincidence, happened to be directly adjacent to the room in which he had just then encountered the single most transformative sight of his life. ‘Twas supposed to be a meeting of lovers; madly passionate lovers no less. But, as even the mildly observant reader will no doubt discern hereon, such was not the way of it. Not in the slightest capacity even.

The fact of the lou being adjacent to the offending room is the one I must now explain relevance for herein…  Justin was so affected and offended by the sight he caught in said room that he immediately became violently, both physically and otherwise, ill. And ‘twould have been quite a shame to ruin as admirable, and even in his own eyes, commendable attire as he had donned specifically for that particular occasion.

Aforementioned occasion being no less that the very moment he had dreamt of and planned since his formative years; his proposal for marriage to his truest love and the purpose for his every honorable deed or thought. He had saved, and even risked by investing, every single penny that he possibly could for years in preparation for this moment. Even so much as, by all observation, seemingly foolishly rehearsing in front of a floor-length mirror, time and time again, as swift and elegant a set of movements and words as he could conceive so as to seem the prince-charming of sorts that she was, in his mind, entirely deserving of.

He had, in fact, spent so much time and mental effort on the composition and choreography of said words and movements as to delay, and nearly negate the planning of, all, every single one, of his prior arranged affairs such as grocery shopping and eating. He loved her that much. But she, apparently to him, returned no such affections and/or endearments; as evidenced by the ostensible scowl mutilating her beautiful face those few arduous moments prior.

And such, such was the void of concern or endearment Janie showed to him then that Justin nearly collapsed under the weight. In fact he did, indeed, drop to his knees and such was the volume of the tile floor’s complaint that Janeycakes, as per the affectionate moniker Justin had given his beloved, burst into the lavatory at full stride to inquire thereabout.


“Justin? Are you okay in here?” she yelled loudly from the entryway. “No.” was the monosyllabic retort that came vociferously echoing through that bathroom in such a stern manner as to make her physically quiver and shudder. Then, between gasps and gurgles, a complete thought came pitifully, scornfully, bellowing forth: “How long did you think you could keep that charade from me?”

“I knew it wouldn’t be long. You’re smart Justin, contrary to what you tell yourself.” Janie then uttered as she inched forward toward him there, crouched pitifully on his knees, head bowed in shame and disgust, bellowing carelessly.

27 JUN 2014

Her eyes are deep gleaming caverns,

The likes of which he had never seen,

She takes him to heights of elation,

Such that he had never been.

He had given up hope of finding someone,

With whom to share some weight,

The lightness of being is, alone, unbearable,

Even if one’s path is narrow and straight.

For someone to affirm his action,

His daily thought and deed,

Justin was all but entirely without,

Until Jenny came along and fulfilled his need.

Either luck or Divine Will,

He could not decide which,

Had delivered him from a surely bleak fate,

Now he swims in an ocean so rich.

An ocean of love and affirmation,

Asail such he resides,

Undulating joyously atop the crests,

To their will he jubilantly abides.

Romantic SF

This is a work in progress. 

                                                              27 FEBRUARY 2014       

                                                         

Chapter 1

            I have carefully collected what I fancy to be the most poignant facts of the sorrows of one young Justin N., and here present it to you, knowing you will thank me for it. To his spirit and character, you cannot deny your admiration. To his fate, you will not deny your tears…

 

            An argumentative young lad of six-and-twenty, he could by then only mumble weak assertions that he was the master of his own destiny and none other. And so, his ears aflame and tears of vexation behind his spectacles, Justin then began somberly gathering up his things… all manners of Pyrex and ceramic lab ware, a virtual myriad of caustic and basic chemicals in flasks and jars respectively , the apron and goggles he was wearing of course, and his tried-and-trusty Physician’s Desk Reference.

            

          Then fiercely stuffing all this into his leather rucksack and buckling it shut Justin gathered himself, retrieved his pub cap from the rack by the door, with a modicum of effort picked up the now overloaded bag, and harshly bid them all adieu as he slogged out the rustic wooden door and onto his bicycle with the cumbersome gear strapped to his back. Moments later his awkward silhouette faded down the winding country road and into the sunset as the group of young students watched intently.

            “… ******* atheists. What do they take me for, a fool?” he grumbled to himself as panoramic scenes of pure, unadulterated countryside whizzed by in his peripheral. Nearly an hour passed before he stepped under the veranda of his residence/laboratory which was tucked snugly between the snow-covered mountains. That was how Justin lived every day of his life… entirely abstinent and devoid of any more contact or embellishment than was absolutely necessary to get by. Save for the dear bicycle.

            Carefully parking his beloved Schwinn “Swinger” under the porch, he stepped to the mat, wiped his feet clean, unlatched the bulky rustic wooden door, and lumbered inside before sitting the burdensome bag on the floor and cursing the very thought of those immature brats who were ragging on him at the school. “Ah but one must forgive. They are but children still, after all.” He assuaged himself with such thoughts between sips of Earl Grey.

            As was implied before Justin held to the maxim that simplicity is beautiful. Thusly he approached everything in his life with such a mindset. Having been a student of engineering design in college, he had always retained an innate appreciation for mechanical systems, yet never acquired the means to pursue such. This being the case, Justin had branched into several differing fields of personal study. And, now that he had happened upon this splendid workshop his studies had broadened to include such varying topics as theoretical physics, calculus and, biochemistry. The latter of which enthralled him like none other.

            So Justin, a slim man by any standard, cautiously scaled the ladder leaning against his reference bookshelf in search of a title rarely seen outside of very specific circles. That is “The Chemistry of Emotion”, a well-written textbook he had happened upon in his campus bookstore late one autumn eve a number of years ago. 

            “This should be helpful.” he mumbled to himself as he then plucked the book from the shelf, cautiously descending the ladder with hefty text in hand, and hurriedly scrambled over to his desk. He then energetically plopped onto a hard wooden chair pulled close enough to the bureau that he could see well, yet far enough away that he needed perch his buttocks on the very edge of the seat. Hours upon hours floated by as he feverishly scribbled notes amidst the sound of a myriad of pages being rifled, as if angrily. 

            Angry could not begin to describe the state that Justin was in. He poured over innumerable texts in search of some remotely feasible answer to the question that had perplexed him for ages it seemed. That is of how, and more importantly why, people ever chose to behave in such a way so as to depreciate the undeserving. Having been belittled to such a degree as he had that very day, Justin’s rage was understandably overwhelming. Or so he told himself…

            And so there he toiled until the glistening rays of morning light began to shoot through the sole window in his study, through the glossy pane, through the delicate lenses of his spectacles, and in past his corneas. And it was, at this very moment, that Justin happened upon the one excerpt that was destined to change the world forever. “Any social situation could theoretically be modified with modulation of hormones.” 

            He read aloud, jumping from his chair, mouth and eyes widely agape as the fantastic   revelation dawned, a plan already beginning to formulate. Only then, after containing his excitement, however barely, had he thought “A sound theory I must say. Certainly warrants research.” And from that very instant all his efforts henceforth were decided… Justin was to be the man behind the ever-elusive science of mind control. But not mind control in the traditional sense. This technique was to be more akin to suggestion, subliminal as such. 

            After about an hour of deep reflection and consideration, Justin decided that it was not unethical if such a power was used responsibly, provided that the majority of humanity would agree upon the responsibility of decided courses of action. And this was such an albatross about the neck of whoever was to unleash such inquiries upon the world that he could barely entertain the very idea.

           

            That is until a couple moments after this life-altering revelation, when the tele rang and startled Justin nearly to the point of shouting. So, instantly irritated beyond words, he jutted up from the bureau, bounded over the heaps of texts in the floor, and answered the phone with a curt “This is Nunley.” “Justin? Are you busy?” came from the receiver in the familiar soothing tone that he recognized all too well, it was a fine young lass with whom he had become exceedingly  besotted ever since their very first meeting back in those fond school days together.

            “NO! I mean no, I’m not doing anything. What do you need?” he then said without a moment’s hesitation. “Justin, I need your help.” came through the lines as he listened attentively.  “Can I come over?” immediately followed. “Yes of course Morgan, you know you’re always welcome here. Come on over.” again he immediately blurted without a moment’s consideration. “Okay, thanks. See you in a bit.” She then gingerly sat the receiver on her base and, with that, the conversation ended.

            Anxiously, Justin scrambled about his modest lab to the entrance, turned toward his unfinished project therein, and said “We’ll pick this up later boys, don’t go anywhere.” He then gingerly closed the door, hung his coat thereupon, and went into the adjoining exercise room where there was a floor-length mirror and checked his appearance for impending revelation of his secret. Seeing none, he then went to the rec. room and tidied up a bit in preparation for his guest-to-be.

            Sinking into the immaculately soft sofa there and reaching to the coffee table in front, he picked up the copy of “Breakfast of Champions” he had left there last and waited patiently, however anxiously, for his dear visitor. Entirely captivated by Vonnegut’s brilliant descriptions, before Justin knew it nearly an hour had passed and suddenly… a timid rapping at the front door. Justin placed his bookmark, casually stood, and answered said door. 

            And there she was, standing in the rain utterly disheveled and looking as he had never imagined her, that is to say, absolutely broken. Justin then hurriedly swung open the screen and ushered her inside whereupon he, without so much as a word between them, took her overcoat and steered her toward the strikingly soft sofa, still tepid and indented. Whereupon Morgan utterly plopped, reveling in the residual warmth being held captive by the plush cushion still indented with his silhouette.

            She then let out a contented sigh as the comfort she longed for took hold. Hearing the pot he had set on the range to boil blow whistle, Justin then rushed over and retrieved it. Along with one of his beloved Norman Rockwell mugs and, opening the cabinet door, asked what type of tea she would like. “Anything warm would be wonderful, thanks.” She then replied in a gentle tone.

            And so, taking note of her indecision, Justin grabbed a bag of chamomile, draped it over the lip, filled the mug to within an inch of its brim with steaming water, laid a saucer thereupon so as to let it steep, and strolled over to the armchair beside the end of said sofa that Morgan had laid her head on. He gingerly sat, crossed his legs, and said softly “So would you like to talk about it?” however hesitantly, for fear of bringing sour thoughts to the mind of his friend there.

            “Well Justin, it’s like this… I got kicked out of my apartment today.” She admitted somberly. “Oh Heavens no, whatever for?” was his immediate reply. “Well a majority of the building filed a complaint about me to the super.” she solemnly said, full of shame. “I asked why, of course. And he said it didn’t matter. So I suspect some foul play is at hand.” asserted Morgan as Justin retrieved the tea he had set to steep those few moments prior, only to find the state of aforementioned tea to be not quite ready.

            He paid no mind, seeing his friend in desperate need of something warm and comforting. He simply extracted the bag, squeezed it hardily over the mug with his bare hand, winced silently in pain so as not to alert her, dripped some honey in, and stirred vigorously. Then carefully bringing the mug to his friend and stretching out his unburned hand, passing it delicately to her. She wasted not even the time to inhale or exhale to smell or cool the tea respectively. She simply took a large sip, swallowed hard, and groaned in approval at the feeling of amity enveloping her core.

            She then immediately thanked her friend by sitting the mug on the short table in front. Then jumping up and throwing her arms about his neck, she squeezed hardily. “Justin, I love you.” Morgan then whispered, turning her head slightly so as to project her now exceedingly warm character onto the sensitive nape of Justin’s neck. He simply smiled widely, reveled in the feeling, and, after a few moments, said “Why don’t you sit down, have some more tea, and we’ll talk about this predicament you find yourself in?”

           

Chapter 2

            So there they were, Justin and the sole focus of his esteem. Him sitting in the lounge chair, legs crossed, and her, sinking into the balmy sofa. After a few moments of comfortable silence had passed, Justin opened his mouth to say “Go ahead, I’m listening.” But she beat him to it and suddenly began rattling off reasons she suspected they threw her out in the cold… said reasons including that she was a bad tenant and neighbor, that she kept company not befitting of that sort of complex, among numerous other ludicrous accusations of herself.

            Justin sat and listened patiently, adding a subtle “MMM HMMM” or “Hmm” every now and again. And there they stayed for 3 full hours as he listened to her outpouring empathetically. She obviously needed an ear to vent to, and he was more than happy to be just that. When suddenly, almost violently, she jutted up and turned to Justin only to find him sitting there, legs still crossed, toying with his mustache and jotting notes in a small pad even.

            He then eyed Morgan in a curious manner and said “What, can I not at least pretend to be a psychiatrist?” “No no Justin, it’s not like that! I just never imagined my troubles and heartaches were of that much interest to anyone that I’m not paying.” she quickly asserted so as not to give her friend the wrong idea. “Morgan I’m your friend. And as such, I’m more than happy to be of any help that I possibly can. I just feel like a horrible excuse for a comrade because of my inability to contribute as much to our relation as should be the case.” Justin then said somberly, bowing his head in shame.

            In Justin’s own eyes he was too easy for trouble, too slow for fun, too empty for friendship, and too lazy for love. A man of little physical strength and an intellectual potential stunted by lack of ambition, he lazily lumbered about his study from day to day feeling pity on himself when not teaching the children, hence his project there which he was eager to return working on. And so an idea was born. That of his friend joining him in his work, for he had no doubt that she was more than competent for such.

                                                                   

            Thusly he waited for an opportune moment to interject. Such a time coming much before he had anticipated, and when it arrived Justin had not fully prepared the question in his mind. But he simply winged it, and out came “Morgan, I recommend you find a project to keep your mind occupied. And I think I have the perfect solution just on the other side of that wall.” As he then tentatively pointed down the hallway. “Well that’s reasonable. I guess those psych. classes really stuck with you, huh?” She replied, sighing contentedly, feeling secure with her choice of confidant.

            “Well I’m no shrink by any standard, but I fancy that I have always had an inherent gift for psychoanalysis.” Justin replied in a modest tone as he blushed furiously. “Be that the case or no, I really just needed a willing ear to vent my frustrations upon. You recognized that and sat there listening patiently as I moaned and groaned for hours on end. You’re a true friend Justin.” she replied, utterly sincere and on the brink of tears.

            “But of course Morgan, I love you. Being as good of friends as we, I can think of none other whom I would sooner lay my life down to comfort.” He replied humbly, unsure of his forwardness. “Justin… I love you.” was her immediate reply as she then stood, swayed over, dropped herself onto his lap, and gave him an affectionate kiss which lingered for nearly a full minute.

            Their tongues frantically frolicked in a whirlwind of dance. They did the Charleston, Promenade, Foxtrot, Beguine, and even a touch of Tango here and there.  And as the two kissed feverishly, all four eyes clamped tightly closed, they were lost in blissful oblivion. Passionately caressing one another’s now taut bodies as they danced the dance of rekindled love until the clock on the wall chimed 11.

              Morgan then lifted her gaze to meet his and at that very moment, as if by some divine hand, Justin’s absolute favorite piece of Jazz came flowing from the sizeable stereo there in the rec. room. Taking such as nothing less than the divine intervention it surely was… Justin stood, took her by the waist, and began spinning in time with the tune. Smiling genuinely, she simply gave in to the sensation and they began to wheel, twirl, gambol, and spin; all the while tucked snugly in a loving embrace.

            Justin simply loved Jazz. In fact, he saw it as the very pinnacle of human expression. Better than Michelangelo, Shakespeare, and Da Vinci rolled into one. Such being the case, he was utterly elated about sharing an intimate moment with his true love inspired by such. And only when Morgan pulled away slightly, so as to nuzzle her nose upon his, did Justin gather the presence of mind to say “Come here, I want to show you something…” as he then led her slowly down the crowded hallway to the makeshift laboratory.

 

Chapter 3

            He swung open the substantial oaken door and said, however apprehensively, “Well here it is then…” “Oh my Justin, what IS all this?!?” was her sudden shocked reply as she stood mouth agape, beholding the very fruits of Justin’s every night and day. “Well I’ve been reading, and the way I understand it is that hormones are the chief governor behind all of us as humans’ decisions.” he hesitantly said, just knowing that she would scoff and blow his deduction off as sheer poppycock.

            “That sounds feasible.” she said calmly, to his amazement. “But one must take into account the responsibility and possible moral ramifications of such an awesome power.” she then said, turning to Justin and touching her index finger to the tip of his nose, instantly seeing beyond his lack of explanation for the plan behind. “Quite ambitious though, I’m impressed already!” she then added teasingly. “Oh don’t think that conundrum hasn’t made itself comfortable in my head. And thank you.” he humbly replied, smiling widely yet again.

            “See, there are a few inherent flaws in my technique that I can’t seem to work around. So I’ve been considering scrapping the whole project.” he then shamefully admitted, drooping his eyes toward the floor, feeling utterly defeated. “No Justin, you can’t! As ethically questionable as this may be, you’ve obviously poured a considerable amount of yourself herein already. To scrap it now would be an utter waste. We’ve been friends long enough for me to know that you consider waste a thief. And being as reasonable a man as yourself, I’m certain you are no thief. Nor would you enable such.” She immediately exclaimed eloquently and with considerable passion.

            “It seems you know me better than I know myself at times friend. Thank you for keeping me on task, as it were.” He said in a tone of appreciation and admiration as he immediately embraced her warmly and she breathlessly uttered “It’s the least I could do Justin.” Then, gathering composure and looking him squarely in the eye, she said “You took me in without question, sat and listened to me whine for hours on end, fixed me tea, and even so much as scalded your hand.”

            “Oh, you weren’t supposed to have seen that.” Justin mumbled in complete embarrassment as he averted his gaze shyly and drew his stinging hand away.  “Here, let me see it.” Morgan then said, grasping his extremity gingerly and bringing the open palm to her lips, exhaling softly before planting a delicate, affectionate kiss thereupon.

           

            Justin finally summoned the bravery to say “Just sit right there, I want you to hear something.” as he strolled over and tentatively picked up the Martin knockoff guitar he had saved all through high-school to purchase, for he fancied it as his best sounding. He then sat in the floor just in front of Morgan and began to fingerpick slowly. Her face assumed a curious character, for she had never heard this piece, as he began singing beautifully written verses in an utterly off-key pitch.

            Her gaze wandered from the instrument up to his face only to see him swaying to and fro, eyes clamped shut and beads of sweat forming on his now crimson portraiture. She immediately closed her own eyes and listened intently to Justin’s thoughtful performance. And as the poetic lines spilled into the air, she was entirely overwhelmed by their meanings and sincerity.  

            He then finished the tune on a sustained vibrato note and, prying his eyes open, found the target of his every affection to be sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, eyes closed gingerly and her face now every bit as crimson as his surely was. Realizing he had stopped, Morgan gathered herself as best as she could, unfolded her legs, opened her eyes, and motioned to stand. Feeling her knees physically quiver from sheer emotion, she then plopped back onto the plush cushions and looked at her friend, smiling widely.

            “Justin that was amazing.” was her immediate comment. “Then it fits. It was written for an amazing lady. Thank you.” He replied modestly as Morgan then looked away and blushed deeper still, for she knew whom he was indicating without need for uncomfortable inquiries. “One question though.” She interjected suddenly, turning her head so as to look him squarely in the eye. “The line that talks about climbing the highest mountain… did you mean that, or did it just fit nicely?”

            “Well both actually. It was sort of written around that.” he replied humbly, embarrassed for having so concisely revealed his elementary technique. “I’m sorry Morgan, I shouldn’t have created this awkward moment with such nonsensical musings.” he then said in a tone of regret.  “Justin, the only reason for the awkwardness of this beautiful moment is my own failing for words. Suffice it to say, you just took my breath away… again.” 

            Feeling somehow more confident of her own intellect, she then squeezed him hardily, nuzzled her nose upon his, and said “Now, about the blood-brain barrier conundrum you find yourself in here…” as she gestured toward the monstrosity of an apparatus Justin had set up there. “I think it would be best to introduce your ‘brew’ intravenously. But to avoid suspicion, I suppose ingestion is nearly the only route to go. I’m sorry.”

            Justin then smiled genuinely and said “My thoughts precisely Morgan. Nearly verbatim even. But why ever are you sorry? This is entirely my endeavor. And thusly, you should feel no obligation to assist. In fact, my overwhelming gratitude goes out to you for even trying to help me in this catastrophe I’ve created for myself here.”

            She then eyed Justin in a tone of half-pity, half-admiration and said “And what a predicament you have indeed! I mean, the science alone is above my own understanding entirely. But it seems to me that one could theoretically tailor some psychoactive chemical that would achieve the goal you’re after here.”

            He then leaped backward in a moment of revelation and reflection, as his mind innately began calculating dosages and side-effects. “Oh my Morgan, you’re right! It really is that simple!” Justin then exclaimed, again feeling utterly humbled for his own oversight. “How could I have been so very ignorant?” 

            Then Justin wrapped his arms somehow more completely around her now exceedingly sunny torso and squeezed lovingly in a subtext of humility. He then pulled his head back slightly and their noses grazed gently against one another as Justin struggled to utter some semblance of coherent thought expressing his gratitude, but he failed absolutely and all that managed to escape was “Th-Th-Th-Thank you.” 

            Morgan then smiled widely, as she seemingly peered into the very core of his being, and said “You’re welcome friend. I hope the going gets easier for you now. I can clearly see how you have toiled yourself into a tumult of sorts over this. You really shouldn’t get so worked-up over things that aren’t paramount.” Then staring back lovingly, equally as intense a gaze, he smiled genuinely yet again and said “Leave it to a woman to keep sensibility about her in times of seemingly insurmountable obstacles.” 

            She by some means pulled him yet closer and softly uttered “Yeah, I’m lucky to have been born without a ‘Y’ chromosome in that respect.”  “I suppose one could look at it that way.” Justin said as he turned slightly so as to project his own cheery character onto the lobe of her ear. “Well, I should be going now Justin. Life beckons. Prior obligations and all that, you understand.” She said regretfully as Justin groaned in a sense of dread, yet acceptance.

            “I love you friend, be careful out there. It’s a crazy world after all, what, with people concocting ways to control your thoughts and all that jazz.” Justin said teasingly, as he winked at his beloved so as to say ‘You know.’  She simply winked in response and kissed Justin’s lips tenderly, then casually strolled to the door. After checking her pockets for assurance she hadn’t forgotten anything she then donned her overcoat, turned, waved a feminine gesture in his direction, said “Good luck Justin. I’ll come back later.” and was off before he could think of a clever reply.

Chapter 4

            Justin then decided he had better eat something, for it had been a number of hours since he could recall ingesting calories. And so, he grabbed a large golden delicious from the bowl on the kitchen table there and took a seat in the middle of the rec. room floor, reaching over to the stereo receiver and turning the volume just shy of full.

            Listening intently in amazement at the skillful myriad of notes in scales of unimaginable complexity blaring from the sizable speakers there, he closed his eyes, bit hardily into the luscious apple and a loud, juicy crunch was nearly audible over the music. Savoring the immaculate flavor therein, Justin then began pondering on the scenario posed by his friend just those few tender moments ago.

            The more he considered the simplicity of her proposed solution, the more he continued to be amazed at how the thought could have ever slipped by him unnoted. “Ah well, I guess that goes to show that arrogance is oft the downfall of men.” His inner monologue grumbled, nearly to the point of disgust, as Justin stood, strolled to the garbage pail, and tossed the remaining core of the delectable apple in.

            Swiftly feeling inspired, as his brain was now in a better state for conception and calculation, he then hurriedly burst into a sprint down the cramped hallway and into the modest lab there. Bending over the substantial bureau dominating the room, so as to scribble notes in a large pad feverishly, his mind fell into a trance-like state of unending hypotheses as he fervently scrawled page after page of pseudo-scientific mumble that he alone could decipher. 

            Glancing over at the sizeable stack of pages he had been inspired to franticly scrawl just then, Justin felt unequivocally accomplished, for he knew beyond a doubt that he had uncovered his method proper. And the list describing said methodology was quite lengthy indeed. So lengthy was it, in fact, that Justin later devoted an entire notebook of pages utterly filled with barely-distinguishable-for-the-tiny-size notes and diagrams to that end.

            And so, deciding he was sufficiently accomplished for the day, he then thought it a good idea for him to get some fresh air. Thusly, he strolled from the study there and took note of the lab coat hanging on the door that he had entirely forgotten to don before so urgently bursting into the room to record his deductions. Chuckling loudly at the immature sense of urgency brought about by inspiration, he then wondered if such was always the case with genius. Laughing aloud hardily then at the notion of yet again seeming conceited, he simply scoffed and decided to put such nonsense in his notes to be pondered carefully later.

           

            Feeling absolutely disgusted with his thought process just then, Justin grimaced at the notion that he was indeed a self-absorbed cretin like those he was to “inspire”. Then he decided it was best to go out for a brisk walk and get some fresh air. Thusly, he went to the entryway and donned his boots, coat, and hat. He then swung open the door, strolled onto the veranda feeling once more quite accomplished, hurriedly descended the steps and suddenly burst into a sprint down the neatly manicured path that led into the undergrowth-laden forest.

            Feverishly sprinting into the unkempt wood, swatting the numerous branches obstructing his way, he soon found himself entirely out of breath. So Justin then slowed his pace a bit, so as not to exhaust himself altogether before he could complete his lap of the ring encircling the property there. Now jogging contentedly down aforementioned pathway, he nearly never caught ear of the rabid brown bear stalking him stealthily as he pranced along, entirely filling and emptying his lungs with the cool dense valley air.

            Then feeling his thigh muscles burn acutely, Justin stopped to lean against a large willow tree alongside the haggard pathway as he savored the brisk air filling his moist lungs. Quiet now, excepting for a few canaries chirping their gleeful song in the distance, he suddenly took note of leaves rustling intensely as the small bear darted forward, seeing her chance to attack. Gathering composure quickly, after raising his pulse sufficiently, he simply slid the blade from his pocket, stood carefully still, and waited for the charging creature as he gripped the cool steel implement steadily.

            Seeing the beast make no attempt whatsoever to slow her progress, Justin readied himself as best he could and, at the opportune moment lunged forward, plunged the blade wholly into the beast just beside the center of her chest so as to avoid the sternum. With that swift action she fell suddenly and entirely limply to the ground with a substantial thud as Justin wiped the sweat from his brow, sighed heartily, and bent over to extract the blade from her now lifeless carcass.

            Feeling overwhelmingly pained for having just committed an act of intense violence, he bent over the body lying there, shut her eyelids gingerly, and closed his own eyes as he said a silent prayer expressing his regret. Consoling himself with thoughts of what the ravenous beast would surely have done to his comparatively fragile form, Justin finished his sincere meditation and stood. Then he somberly made his way back to the undisturbed laboratory/residence, before stepping inside, removing his outer wear, and dropping robustly onto a hard wooden chair at the kitchen table.

Chapter 5

            Then, unsure as to whether regret was an appropriate emotion in situations such as his then, Justin decided upon simply immersing himself in a verbose tale or two, so as to occupy his mind. Thusly he strolled to his fiction shelf and extracted a sizeable paperback entitled “The World Treasury of Science Fiction” that had been gifted to him by a smashing fellow he had come to be fond of chatting up there at the school after his classes ended for the day.

            And so there he sat, perched forward in anticipation, as he read the beautifully composed passages for 4 full hours before he heard a timid rapping at the door. This startled him none whatsoever, as Justin recognized the character of that knock well. So he casually stood, placed his bookmark, swayed over to the door, and, upon opening it as well as the screen, was greeted by the familiar beaming face of Morgan as she stood, casually leaning on her heels and arms akimbo, so as to say “Told you I’d be back.”

            He just grinned genuinely and ushered her inside, and as before taking her coat, then informing her to sit wherever she liked and that this was as much her house as his. Then Justin strolled into the kitchen and called out “What would you like to drink?” Stealthily creeping to the kitchen, she slithered up just behind Justin and gingerly tickled his sides. Instinctively quivering and giggling in delight, he squirmed for a few moments until Morgan relented her assault and Justin stepped to the cabinet there.

            Then, opening aforementioned cabinet, he told her she should feel welcome to browse the kitchen there, fridge and all, for anything she’d like. Thanking him duly, she then opened the fridge and extracted a large bottle of cranberry juice. Turning ‘round to the counter and inching closer so as to stand affectionately close to Justin as he turned around, glasses in hand and patiently waiting, she presented the sizable bottle to him as Vanna White would showcase a prize of sorts .

            Smiling authentically at his friend then, Justin chuckled quietly to himself and carefully took possession of the massive container. Then, upon twisting the lid open, poured them both full glasses and, replacing the lid, turned back toward the fridge placing the hefty bottle back inside. Then closing said door and turning back, only to find nothing more than an utterly empty space. For his dear friend had already taken the glasses into the lounge, placed them carefully on the short table, before quietly taking seat on the comfortably warm sofa.

            Sauntering to the place she had obviously left unoccupied for him there beside her, Justin carefully took seat and picked up the glass from the table, before turning and thanking her genuinely. “You might be pleased to hear that I’ve made substantial progress in my thesis, Morgan.” Justin said as he motioned to the substantial black notebook on the short table before them both.  “My my Justin, someone’s been busy these few hours past!” she then commented playfully as she beheld the large notebook, with the borders of loose sheets extending in every direction, traces of graphite peeking subtly free.                                                                                                                                         

            “I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I gave these a once-over, would you Justin? Purely for curiosity’s sake.” she inquired playfully as Justin gestured with the glass so as to say “Be my guest.” Taking hold of the bundle cautiously, so as not to disturb the obviously ordered fashion as the pages were all headed in MLA style, she leaned back and placed the loosely bound notebook on her comparatively flat lap. 

          Then he decided that she very well may be distracted by the complicated music he always kept flowing from the stereo there. Justin then carefully stood, went over to the receiver, and decreased the volume to a murmur before slowly inching the knob oppositely until the tune was barely distinguishable from the clock’s ticking.

             Creeping back over, so as not to disturb the obviously deep in concentration friend that he loved so, he then gingerly assumed the position he left last and Morgan softly made an acknowledging noise as her eyes darted all over the hurriedly scribbled notes and she moaned in obvious approval over and again. And so, after about an hour of turning page after overfilled page, she finished the composition. Then, sighing in an undertone of admiration, she looked him squarely in the eye and said “Justin you really should be doing scientific research of some sort instead of trying to impart knowledge on those stubborn brats.”

            “Morgan, is it that obvious how I feel about my job?” Justin said in undertones of shame, as he averted his gaze regretfully. “Well, not obvious per say but subtly so, yes. Not to worry though, most every instructor I have ever come across thinks that way.” She retorted quickly, seeing her friend in a state of absolute self-loathing and shame. “I see… suppose that’s just intrinsic to educators then. Thank you.” replied Justin humbly, as he then leaned over and once more wrapped his arms around her ever-gleeful torso and squeezed affectionately.

            “Wow Justin, you really do have quite the variable taste in music!” she then happily said, as classic funky jazz (George Benson to be precise) suddenly came from the stereo, turning toward Justin and beaming an admiring smile in his direction as his face assumed an appreciative character. He then grinned widely yet again and said “Well, as has been so concisely said many times before: ‘It takes all kinds.’” “Indeed it does Justin. Indeed so.” Morgan softly whispered as she looked at him lovingly, sat the papers on the table in front there, and mashed downward with her legs into the sofa cushions so as to press her form more wholly into his.

            Snuggling her still yet closer, Justin then took note of the fact that she was not wearing any sort of necklace. This seemed in opposition to her character, for she most always adorned herself with bracelets or a fine wristwatch. Thusly, a thought occurred to him… that of crafting a piece in that respect to show his appreciation for her assistance in his monumental undertaking. Not wanting to seem overly affectionate or forward, it couldn’t be ostentatious in the least. Yet it should still possess some fine qualities.        
 

            He could have sat there tucked snugly in their loving embrace for eternity, but Justin then took notice of her stomach rumbling audibly and noted his own doing the same. Thusly, he then motioned to get up, swiftly stood, took her by the hand, and urged her to do the same before leading the both of them into the kitchen and, once in the center, turned toward her and said “I’m kind of hungry, aren’t you?” 

            “Actually, I’m watching my caloric intake nowadays.” She replied in a tenor of thanks, as she then strolled to the small table and sat, crossing her legs delicately. “Well I’m not going to eat in front of you.” Justin then replied, attempting to be as polite as his mother had raised him to be. “No Justin, if you’re hungry you should eat. Don’t miss a meal on my account!” she immediately exclaimed passionately. “Oh come now, I’m not exactly ravenous. Besides, it’s bad manners to eat alone in company, if that makes a lick of sense.” Justin replied, stepping forward into the center of the den and again adjusting the volume of the stereo.

            “Well I must say Justin, that mindset is not very common in this day-and-age. Most everyone I know is only out for number one, so to speak.” Morgan then replied with an impression that Justin truly was a thoughtful young lad after following him into aforementioned space and taking stance just behind him there. “Well if truth be told we’re all, every single human, hard-wired to seek advantageous options concerning our dealings in everyday life. The only distinguishing factor that I can assume would be that of politeness. Or lack thereof… hence my project there.” Justin countered as he then motioned down the familiar hallway.  

            “I see then. Justin, might I say that you’re quite observant. And not only that, your ambition combined with intelligence often leads you to monumental undertakings to those ends. Or so it seems to me.” Morgan then said, looking to him only to see yet again a wide smile as he peered into her gaze lovingly and said “Monumental indeed. And my lack of expertise in these particular fields makes for a bumpy road so to speak.” Morgan then subtly bit the inside of her bottom lip before reassuringly saying, in the most comforting tone she could muster, “I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle Justin. I mean look at what you’ve overcome already!”

            The obstacles she was referring to were those caused by the horrific accident Justin had endured some 6.5 years prior. Justin had been involved in an automobile wreck in which he suffered Traumatic Brain Injury and was rendered comatose for some lengthy time. Resulting complications he endured nowadays included, but were in no way limited to: muscle tone in his left forearm/hand, impaired gait which made for slow going by foot to most any place,  and his speech was, at times of extreme excitement, a bit difficult to understand. And that’s not to mention his struggle with encoding and subsequently recalling newly obtained information.

            He then grinned in an undertone of some modest pride and said “Well when the going gets tough, the tough get going, right? And as prideful as this may seem, I fancy myself as fairly tough. Oh, and drugs help too.” By most accounts Justin was indeed fairly tough, ideologically anyhow. Of course, he had received a great deal of assistance in that respect from sublimely loving family, friends, and a steady supply of medicine. “Well, drugs or no, I still think you’re pretty tough Justin. Or pretty stubborn, I haven’t decided.” Morgan said in a playful tone, winking affectionately as she looked him squarely in the eye.

            So there they sat exchanging sincere compliments and loving glances, along with genuine smiles and tender affections, until Morgan absolutely had to tear herself away so as to tend to her own daily affairs. Not two minutes after her departure Justin went straight to the forest to select an attractive piece of oak to use for his planned present. Then eyeing a mossy tree that stood some 35 feet tall he estimated. “Surely I can find a good piece in that mass of wood!” Justin thought, then took the axe from his hip holster, and walked unsurely over to the daunting oak.

            Mechanically chopping undercuts into the sizable trunk for 90 minutes nonstop, Justin found himself utterly parched. He then went and retrieved the water bottle from his pack, gulped ounce after ounce of the invigorating fluid therein, then returned to the trunk. Only to deliver a few more blows before watching and listening satisfactorily as the woods echoed with creaking, snapping, and an agreeable thud as the hefty oak stiffly toppled to the forest floor. Removing his shirt, not so much to cool his person but to clean the sweat unreservedly flowing from his brow, Justin wiped thrice and sat on the ground beside his pack before admiring the fruits of his arduous labor.

            Finishing the 64 ounce container of water in some small number of hearty gulps he then strolled over to the massive trunk lying there and inherently calculated the approximate weight of cylinders of oak, varying in size, so as to decide where to cut and still be able to safely lug the prize obtained back to the would-be jewelry shop. Deciding upon the length, or alternately height, of a piece manageable, he then stood atop the daunting trunk and began swinging his razor-edged axe mightily, exhaling robustly and letting a primal grunt escape with every strike.

Chapter 6

            Proudly standing over the log just obtained, Justin then admired his handy work and savored the feeling of achievement, for it was no small undertaking to do what he had just. That is of chopping down a large oak, with the very same axe cutting a piece of manageable size, and lugging it some 300 yards through dense forestry. Immediately putting such prideful thoughts aside, he took a carpenter’s pencil and began to score evenly spaced lines on the raw log atop the bench before him. 

            Then strapping the timber to aforementioned bench, cautiously removing the hand-saw he had there from its cardboard sheath, and placing the teeth atop one of those evenly spaced lines nearest an end, he began to forcibly push and pull the blade to and fro. Soon feeling his arms and even legs accumulate Lactic Acid, he decided it best to push through the burn until his task was done. And his pain was none-too-soon rewarded as the disk of cellulose-smelling lumber hit the concrete floor with a satisfying thud. 

            Knowing he had the very same cut to make immediately following, so as to have a suitable subject for his feeble attempt at artful carving, he felt yet again prideful to some moderate degree. Although he decided that pride was an appropriate emotion just then. For Justin had indeed risked hurting himself terribly to achieve the goal he desired. And although the goal had yet to be met, his face beamed with glee.

            Hungry for that feeling again after a few short minutes, during which he took a number of large gulps of water from the tap there, he decided against the arduous sawing back and forth. So gripping the handle of another axe instead, he cautiously lined one of the cutting edges up with a rough stripe he had drawn those minutes prior. Then raising the weighty axe head over his own noggin, he swung downward forcefully, this time feeling confident in his own abilities. The blade sunk approximately .125 inches into his log there and Justin grimaced in disapproval.

             Not being, nor ever having been, a lumberjack Justin had no idea as to the immense amount of force it requires to cleave a piece of hardwood with even a moderately dull axe. Hence his disapproval and subsequent hunger for better results. Thusly, he once more raised the lesser edged axe high above his head and thrust down with an utterly primeval grunt that emanated from the very core of his being.

            The intensity of his swing had obviously loosened his grip considerably, as the axe head struck the log not perfectly perpendicularly and deflected slightly, so as to bounce away, meeting his right calf perfectly perpendicularly instead. Flesh being much, much softer than oak, the blade nearly cleaved his gastrocnemius (calf) muscle in two. Fighting the instinctive onset of panic, he then hurriedly hobbled back to the porch before removing his pants entirely to assess the damage.

            Then reaching inside and flipping on the porch light before yanking the hose from its reel, frantically turning the gate valve, and drenching his calf with the stinging cold aqua before throwing said hose onto the porch and tottering inside. Frantically rushing to the hall closet and extracting his customized first-aid kit along with a couple of towels before scrambling back to the porch, he took seat on the floor and assessed the damage, triage style, before opening said kit and extracting supplies he thought paramount to this particular injury, those supplies included firstly a tourniquet, masses of gauze, rubbing alcohol, Iodine, an unopened tube of Neosporin, and some tape.

            Then tying the tourniquet around his limb below the knee and pulling hardily on the ends so as to prevent further hemorrhaging before twisting open the cap on the alcohol and, wincing in anticipation of the sting, then dousing the liquid all over his gaping wound there. After the audible hissing had subsided he reached over and picked up the still free-flowing end of the garden hose and once again aimed the flow onto his injury there.

            Feeling somewhat comforted by the icy chill of the water in opposition to the burn of the alcohol as it worked its magic, he held the hose there until the water pooling on the deck ran a translucent shade of crimson and no pus was to be seen. Then inspecting his wound carefully for cleanliness, there were no signs of infection and, Justin was satisfied. He then began to feel quite woozy and weak as the torrent of hormones began to wither. Or maybe it was blood loss. In either case, Justin knew beyond doubt that he needed desperately to get bandaged up and inside soon.

            So Justin bandaged his leg as neatly and tightly as he could manage, applying an even tube of Neosporin and wrapping some 40 layers of the thin gauze around, then encasing the makeshift bandage with three full layers of medical tape. And then struggled to stand steadily as he took the still flowing hose and, as per his anal personality, sprayed the copious amount of congealing blood from the deck underfoot and turned the hose off. Then grasping the first-aid box, hopping inside, bolting the door shut, and plopping onto the sofa, Justin began to wonder whether or not she was worth it.

            “OF COURSE SHE IS JUSTIN! Love is worth enduring all the pain and suffering the world has to offer. And what you’re experiencing here is nothing more than your own damned inadequacy young man.” His inner monologue then squealed in a seemingly alien voice as Justin began to feel his alertness drifting away. Never bothering to get up and turn the overhead or porch lights off, as he was entirely exhausted now, consciousness entirely dropped from his possession just then, his head met the strikingly comforting pillow there with a poof and not three minutes after he was entirely asleep.

Chapter 7

            It was mid-day before Justin instinctively roused himself enough to make it to the restroom and, understandably concerned, he did his routine clumsily, scrambled outside to the shop and picked up the handsaw. Finishing the cut and once more hastily abandoning the shop, he limped inside and gingerly laid the disk of wood on the counter there. Then, limping to get a tall glass of pomegranate juice from the antique fridge and a large sack of granola from a cabinet alongside, he assumed seat on a stool at the island and studied the disk of wood carefully.

            As he imagined shape after endless shape of pendants possible within the prettiest grain pattern, Justin reached to the cup of pencils beside the telephone and took a sharp 6H along with a large kneaded eraser. In between the hearty crunching of the granola he loved so he began to sketch the dividing lines projected thereon by his mind as he pictured an Old English monogram, the casual reader can guess what letter.

            After some length of time, Justin had no idea as to how much, for he was entirely immersed in his process then, the tele rang loudly and startled him quite badly. He simply took a number of very, very deep breaths and answered the phone nonchalantly with “Yes hello?” “Justin I’m coming over tonight, okay?” then came from the receiver in that warm affectionate tone that Justin had come to relish even more than that of Ella’s or Billie’s. It was Morgan. 

            “Yes, of course Morgan, you’re always welcome here!” he replied without the slightest hint of hesitation or meditation. Justin, upon hanging up, immediately fell into an intense state of worry for he desperately did not want her to have the slightest inkling that he had injured himself for her supposed happiness. Thusly he tidied up his small mess at the island there, took the precious disk, walked to the hall closet, gently laid the blank onto one of the shelves there, then rushed to his bedroom and upon donning some clever attire that included his smartest button-up, a white undershirt, some khaki cargo pants, and his brown loafers, he tidied up the living space, took seat, and, opening the Vonnegut edition he left there last, began feel elated as he absorbed the verbose tale.

           

            Evening happed upon him much sooner than he supposed it would and then that familiar timid rap came undulating from the door.  Justin was startled to some modest degree as he was entirely immersed in the brilliantly verbose tale. So he gathered himself, stood, and carefully placed his bookmark. Then he, straightening his attire as best he was able, strolled over and answered the door with a pleasant smile.

            “Remember, this is your house.” he tenderly said, ushering her inside as before and wrapping his arms around her wholly. Morgan simply beamed a gaping grin directly at his face which had, by then, assumed the very same character. And there they stayed, standing at the door tucked warmly in that loving embrace, until Justin began to feel pus oozing from his calf. He winced unnoticeably and calmly said “I need to use the head. Make yourself comfortable.” as she then reluctantly, yet acceptingly, relinquished her embrace and watched in curiosity as he strangely limped down the hallway.

            As Justin entered the lavatory he took seat on the toilet and yanked his pant leg up to just above his knee, which was now quivering in pain. Hurriedly cutting the tape free and ripping it, along with the soiled gauze, from his leg, he then saturated the bundle of new gauze he had prepared for just this occasion with alcohol and covered it in Neosporin, then pressed it to the maw of a wound on his leg. Taking note of the time, he hastily enclosed his leg in a crude bandage as before. Then he, as casually as he could pretend to be, hobbled back to the den only to find no one there waiting.

            Feeling assured that she had taken his statement sincerely, Justin made his way to the kitchen and poured them both glasses of pomegranate juice with some %2 mixed in. Taking seat on the trusty sofa, he began to feel anxious. “Where is she? Has she left abruptly? Is something wrong? Is she hurt?” he almost incoherently posed to himself, glancing to the clock and noticing that 20 minutes had passed since he went to play field nurse.

            Suddenly, at the exact moment that he had opened the novel so as to occupy his worrying nature, Morgan came strolling through the front threshold and said “Messy shop you have down there. Are you working on something?” He then averted his gaze slightly and replied “I had a couple of ideas last night, yeah.” as he began to feel shame, resulting from his own inability. “Really then, may I know?” she replied with a curious look, as Justin muttered “W-Well I’d really rather wait until it’s done, if it’s all the same.” and felt quite uneasy for he was sure she had, somehow or another, discovered his plan and was feigning ignorance.

            She simply shrugged an ‘oh well’ gesture and said “Well I can’t wait. It must be something pretty big, I saw the blood.” As Justin mentally assaulted himself, for having made such an oversight in his haste, he said softly “Yeah, I fancy this one as a project of paramount importance.” She giggled in excitement for him and said “I’m happy for you Justin. I know how much you love creating things.” To which his reply was a cautious “Yes I do, but only things that can make a difference, like a painting, sculpture or book. Or even a piece of jewelry.” 

            “Oh really, you make jewelry? What style?” Morgan excitedly said, feeling connected. Subconsciously never giving him a chance to formulate a response she added “I love jewelry. It can add such a sense of class.” He smiled widely as had become habitual in her presence by then and, looking to the floor, replied “If it’s done right. And that’s where I fail completely.” “Oh come on Justin, I bet your pieces aren’t that bad.” she quickly retorted, trying once again to comfort her friend, as he was in obvious need of such reinforcement. He just frowned with thoughts like “If you only knew Morgan, if only you knew.” racing through his head. 

            “Well that’s enough about me, how are YOU?” Justin said preventively, trying to avoid any inquires as to his project there. “Well, I’ve been better. But I’ve been worse. So average, I guess one could say.” She replied in a gentle timbre as Justin motioned to the short table. Then, patting a place beside him there on the sofa, he said “Here… a glass of Pom with some milk mixed in. I think you’ll like it.” She then exclaimed “MMMM, I do love me some pomegranate juice!”, again taken back by Justin’s courtesy.

            “Great minds my friend, great minds.” he said happily as she strolled over, gingerly sat, and, crossing her legs in the same fashion as Justin had his, said “Indeed so Justin, indeed so. But that begs the question… is that simply to say that minds of the same stature think alike, no matter the degree of intellect?” He then raised an eyebrow, as was his predilection in times of contemplation, and said “Very interesting question Morgan, I’ll have to ponder on that one.” 

            “Well, do just that because, I fancy hearing your thoughts.” she replied as Justin scoffed and modestly said “You must really like fiction then. Such as Vonnegut here…” motioning to the well-worn, yet obviously cared for, copy of ‘Breakfast of Champions’ lying on the table before them both. “I do, in fact, enjoy a good fiction. But most all of what I’ve heard or read of your composition I’ve taken to be entirely factual!” she avidly retorted.

            He blushed that oh so familiar shade yet again and took a large sip of the juice concoction there on the table as she did the same. They both then, at the very same millisecond, gulped loudly and sighed in refreshment. As they smiled directly into one another’s beaming faces, Justin sighed comfortably once more and stood. Tottering over to the stereo and turning on his record player he, placed the needle, adjusted the volume cautiously, then brought the sleeve of “Kind of Blue” over to the sofa, passing it to her to inspect.

 

            “Is it really worth it?” she curiously inquired, taking the sleeve carefully and inspecting the covers. “Is what worth it?” Justin replied, posing the questions face-to-face or back-to-back, however you like. “The sound, is it worth the hassle of dealing with these comparably fragile platters of vinyl? I mean, a digital recording can be in upwards of 320 kilobytes per second quality, whereas these old things give like, what, maybe at best 150k?” she replied.

            “You’re right, this technology is very outdated and widely considered archaic in this day. But the satisfaction of placing that needle and getting a pure, sublimely warm resulting sound could never be replaced. Plus, they’re cheap these days!” he said, trying desperately to adequately defend what he considered to be the purest, most satisfying medium for something held so dearly close to his heart. That is to say music, namely jazz. As he then fumbled around and took another hefty gulp from his glass there.

            “No no, keep going! What else?”Morgan immediately replied, obviously enthralled by Justin’s passionate conviction. He simply eyed her in a curious tone and, as he delicately scooched intimately close to her, said “Oh come now, surely there’s something else you’d rather talk about.” To which her retort was simply “No.”, which caught him wholly off-guard, for he had always imagined himself to be full of nonsense when not in a professional setting, and even sometimes therein.

            “Well there’s this irreplaceable feeling of being somehow palpably connected to the music that comes by surgically and methodically placing that needle, as opposed to just mashing a button or two.” he said with a sense of apprehension, unsure if she knew fully what such a conversation with him entailed. “I see Justin. That isn’t nonsense at all. Elementary pleasures are paramount when seeking true appreciation.” Morgan inserted as she gazed admirably at him while he sat there, legs carefully crossed and an appreciative grin on his face. 

            Returning her look with an equally sincere one of admiration, he then managed the courage to say “You never cease to amaze me Morgan.” She then eyed him in utter curiosity yet again and, averting her stare modestly, said “How might that be Justin?” “You always seem to read my mind verbatim. And needless to say or no, that’s entirely uncommon because as you well know, I’m weird.” he replied with undertones of insecurity as he then reached over, extended his index and middle fingers, and urged her chin upward so as to once again align her stare with his.

           

            “Did you hurt your leg?” she then inquired curiously, gingerly touching his calf as it throbbed in pain. “W-Well, kind of, yeah, it was stupidity really.” he cautiously replied, sure to be as vague as possible. “What happened Justin? Let me see it.” She immediately said with absolute and sincere concern. Terribly frightened by the notion of her uncovering his gruesome secret, Justin said “It’s fine, really. Just a minor injury, nothing I can’t handle.”  “Justin, let me see it.” She sternly replied, looking at him in a strict character.

            And with that look, Justin knew that any resistance would be futile. He just somberly said “Okay.” and raised his pant leg. Perceptibly gasping in horror at the gruesome sight before her, Morgan extended her soft hands and took hold of the saturated makeshift bandage. Pulling the tape free, she once more gasped in horror as the severity of his injury made itself perceptible.

            “Oh my Justin, what in the hell happened?!?” she inquired with overwhelming passion as she beheld the nature of his wound. “My own stupidity, that’s what.” he answered in shame, then adding “I was in the woods with an axe…” As she immediately pressed a finger to his lips in a hushing gesture, and shook her head, so as to say “JUSTIN!” He shamefully turned away and mumbled “I know, I know. It was stupid. But I had an appropriate reason.”

            “Oh and what reason could that have been there mister lumberjack?” she said, in a tone of complete 

disbelief, as a concerned mother would have. And with that, Justin chuckled softly and said “Well miss Morgan, it’s like this… I wanted to get a log.” To which her retort was “But why, isn’t there gas heating here?” as she stood and then added “Don’t go anywhere, I want some answers Justin.” thrusting a stiff finger at him as he slumped into the sofa, shamed.

            She then went into the bathroom, retrieved the half-empty bottle of alcohol, some hand towels, a fresh tube of Neosporin, a box of gauze, and, after rifling through the cabinets, a roll of medical tape. Then stiffly strolling back to the den, irately dropping her armful of goods, and plopping onto the floor just in front of him with the supplies messily piled beside, she arranged the boxes neatly and began tending to his wound there. Expecting more resistance, she curiously nursed his gash. Until, upon finishing her task, she gathered the supplies there and lugged them back to the lou. And as Justin sat there patiently he affirmed his earlier conclusion of her being “worth it” and began to smile without reserve.

            Storming back to the den to find him sitting there, tail between his legs, she curiously inquired “Justin, why did you need a log?” as she sat beside him, feeling some considerable amount of pity, and snuggled close to his torso as she pulled her legs up femininely and wrapped her arms around his core. “Thank you Morgan, I love you.” He said, looking down at her gorgeous face snuggled lovingly against his lower chest and beaming a genuine smile. Lost in hormonally-drunk affection she, to his delight, entirely lost thought of her previous inquiry as to the underlying reason for his state.

       

            Looking down curiously to the coffee table Morgan then spied a different, somehow more precious, notebook and asked “What’s that Justin? Can I see it?” as she, giving him no chance to respond, took hold of said notebook, flipped open to the first page, and began to read aloud. “In women such as her color and light are so beautiful, so all-present, so intense, so wild, that the relationship is immediately love-hatred, that is, one of passion. It has taken me many months to understand this, and many years to accept it. Morgan is beautiful, there is no other adjective; she is not just pretty, picturesque, charming—she is simply and effortlessly beautiful.”

            Struggling to keep tears at bay she leaned back, squeezed his robust torso tighter yet, and, in the same manner pressed her face into his sternum, then softly uttered “Justin, that’s wonderful. I love you.” He augmented his grin and, this time himself breathless, replied “I love you Morgan, oh I love you.” She then motioned to stand and said “You sit right there, I’m going to get us some yogurt.” Then, after quickly prancing into the kitchen, she opened cabinets, containers, drawers, and the fridge. Tenderly assembling two quite sizable servings of organic yogurt, topped with a sprinkling of the tried-and-true granola, she sauntered back to the den bowls in hand.

            “My my Morgan, what’s with the sudden service gig?” he then asked in a teasing color, as she lifted her bowl to just below her nose and inhaled deeply. “MMMM, this smells delicious! Here, have a sniff.” she replied, acknowledging his question none whatsoever as if she was oblivious, and held the copiously-filled bowl under his nose. Inhaling deeply, he then noted the luscious hearty smell indeed and commented “And I’d say it’s texturally quite rich as well, wouldn’t you bet?” She grinned deviously and quipped “I’m feeling kind of daring. So, yes Justin, let’s bet on it!”

            Taken aback once more, he raised an eyebrow curiously and said “And what might be the stakes?” “Hmmmmmmm, let me think…” Morgan said as she toyed with her feminine chin and pretended to ponder. Then she suddenly came with “How about a kiss? If it’s not satisfying I’ll add some fruit and you get a kiss.”  To which Justin’s reply was another eyebrow raise followed by “And if you win?” She managed to augment her devious grin and said “You give me a foot rub.” And as he looked at her, somehow deviously, Justin said “Alright, you’re on! But be forewarned, this is some quality granola.” 

            “So on what metrics are we basing this test?” he inquired, altogether serious, as he sniffed the heaping bowl energetically. To which her sly reply was “Any you like Justin. You’re the mad scientist.” “Very well then, but is that really impartial?” was his retort, attempting to forge an oblivious character for her obvious charade. “You know what, you’re right Justin.” She then said as she reached to the notebook laid out there, turned to a fresh page, and began to jot what he thought to be utterly ridiculous categories to rate the dish on such as aurally pleasing.

           

            Morgan then sat back into the sofa beside Justin and laid the ‘scoring sheet’ she had concocted just then across the infinitesimal space between their thighs. Then, upon taking her bowl from Justin as he passed it to her, she stirred it gently and amassed some amount on the spoon before bringing it carefully to her eager mouth. Then closing her eyes and opening wide in anticipation, before thrusting the spoon therein as she inhaled through her nostrils and sighed heartily in satisfaction. Closing her lips around and sliding the utensil free, her face assumed a discerning character as she swashed the myriad of textures around with her tongue.

             Justin then took note of her expert tasting method and was very much impressed, thusly he decided it the best to adopt for himself. So he took on a carbon-copy for his own use and, upon swallowing, groaned in a satisfied nature. Then noticing that she had also swallowed, he contentedly asked “Where’d you learn that technique?” Morgan smiled and said “I read about it in a magazine and it sounded valid, so I gave it a go and liked it.” 

            “I think it has something to do with engaging as many senses as possible.” he replied in a modest tone, as had become his custom. “Exactly Justin, I mean, think about it. One needs to use taste primarily but also smell, touch, and hearing to some degree. And sight only need be used when one first encounters the dish. As adequately gauging something entails perception beyond that even fathomed by most.” she then said as Justin stared in awe and amazement at the depth of her perception and impeccable grammar. Then, making positive she had finished her thought, he said “Wow. What publication were you reading? I need to get my hands on some of their editions!” as he took another nibble and chewed vehemently.

            “I don’t really recall Justin… it was just some magazine… Wine Aficionado or something along those lines I think they called it.” she answered as Justin nodded in approval and took another taste in his newly adopted fashion. Then, pulling the pencil from behind her ear, she leaned toward him slightly so as to mark on the notepad there. “Thank you Morgan, I’ve tasted this very concoction too many times to recall. And yet, I now have a wholly new appreciation for it. I’d keep you here forever if I could.” Justin calmly stated as she scoffed in a modest timbre and seemingly blew the latter part of his comment off as poppycock.

            And there they stayed, comforted in one another’s presence until it got to be quite late. Or early, what have you, and Morgan absolutely needed to go. She was off to her friend Casey’s house to get some rest before work. Oh, how she hated having those sorts of obligations. But such is life.

Chapter 8

            Justin arose fairly early in the morn, as he had a fantastically restful sleep after such a splendid night. He went to the restroom, did his habitual routine, and upon finishing went to the kitchen where he spied a bright hair bow on the counter atop an elegantly folded manuscript. He picked up the bow and as Justin went to lay it aside, he noted well the intoxicating aroma emanating from the accessory. It was Morgan. 

            He inhaled and savored the intoxicating sensation ceaselessly caused by the slightest indication of her wholly enthralling essence. Curiosity startling him to reality, he then reluctantly laid the bow down and grasped the note in a ginger fashion. Justin gasped in dismay as he spied few words on the page at first such as “sorry” “hate” and “regret”. Slowly he wandered over to the sofa, the fabric still impregnated with her powerful pheromones, and began the letter at the beginning.

             “Justin, I’m so sorry, my boss just called and I have to leave town today. But I want you to call me if you feel like it. Again, I’m unbelievably sorry for springing this on you so sudden. It was a shock to me, as I’m sure it is for you also. But I know if I don’t take this opportunity to advance in this company I’ll regret it forever. I really hate to leave like this but, prior agreements and all that, you understand. I love you, please call me … ### - ### - ####.

P.S. Take care of yourself!”

          

           Initially Justin felt sorrow mixed with overwhelming pain. The sharp physical sting originating in his calf held no contest to this fantastic level of discomfort. Said discomfort was soon alleviated somewhat by the realization that this would give him time to perfect the present he so desperately wanted to surprise her with.  

 Thusly he wasted no time at all and carefully placed the letter in the top drawer of his bureau and drew in the luscious scent emanating from the small bow once more before reluctantly sitting it on the desktop and prying himself away.

            Taking not the time to even consider a meal he rushed to the hall closet, extracted the precious disk cautiously, and then made his way to the shop. Clamping the now-seemingly-daunting lumber into a sturdy jig with rubber ‘footies’ thereon, he began to neatly sketch shapes on the face within the compartments defined before. Choosing the designs he fancied as would suit her form best… neckline, collar, and such… he then began about the surely tedious process.

           After working himself into a fervor known only by rescue personnel or police during some daring mission, he began to perspire profusely and felt his every muscle spasm. The inherence of panic taking hold, he simply took a number of exceedingly deep breaths and the tension dwindled away slowly as Justin thought of her and none other… Morgan. The beguiling fashion in which she would have meandered in the door and made herself at home, the thought that he could offer a place of refuge, away from fears of judgment or ridicule for any reason at all afforded him such a warm feeling of pride that it nearly overwhelmed Justin. 

            As he stood perfectly still… or as still as he could manage to, what with his leg quivering and all, Justin pictured the scene from the previous night. That is of Morgan’s simply beautiful face utterly gleaming from just below his sternum while she stared up intoxicatingly as they were tucked snugly in that comfortable, safe endearment. He smiled contentedly, affirming his conclusion of her being ‘worth it’ yet again, and once more wielded the handsaw. 

            Then painstakingly coaxing the desired approximation from his disk there, Justin swiped the bench clean carelessly, gingerly sat the precious piece of rough-cut lumber on the hastily-cleaned bench, and sat on the stool beside. After careful consideration he decided it best to eat something before putting his brain through as rigorous a process as this surely would entail.

            So he tenderly laid his utensils upon the workbench and simply walked away. He, more than anything, didn’t want this project to become a chore in any capacity. Thusly he went into the kitchen and fetched himself a hearty bowl of the unknowingly fated yogurt/granola mixture sprinkled with dehydrated peach slices.

            Practically inhaling his breakfast Justin then quickly, carelessly, tossed the bowl into the kitchen sink before strolling painfully back to the fated workshop. Thus, days upon days of Justin spending his every free moment willfully toiling, working toward perfection, eventually led to the use of disks from nearly every inch of the tree he had slain for this very purpose. They were extremely cautiously obtained disks, mind you, but

disks no less.

Chapter 9

            Now on his twenty-seventh attempt at artful carving, no fruits were to his liking after having successfully freed some 300 small cubes from the once-enormous trunk with nothing more than hand-tools, for those were the only grain patterns he thought suitable; and Justin began to feel discouraged many times during. But in such times all he needed do was think of her… her grace, her humility, her stunning beauty, her incomparable intellect,  her kindness, and every time was reminded that she is worth enduring every hardship this dimension and any other have to offer.

            Week upon week passed by in just that fashion, with passionate three-hour telephone conversations being exchanged daily until he needed excuse himself to tend to his wound which had, by then, began to heal nicely, and countless hours of intense labor late into the wee hours of the morning. Until one afternoon Justin came home early because school had been dismissed on the account of some technical issue or the other. 

            He painfully traversed the bumpy dirt driveway and, upon parking his Schwinn under the awning, slowly made his way up the porch steps. Justin could not yet put his full weight on the injured leg. Finally surmounting the 12-step set, he then took seat on the rocker there beside the front entrance and tenderly massaged his calf. Feeling the pain dull to a barely tolerable level, as it always did, he then stood cautiously and hobbled to the door.

            Gripping the knob he turned slightly and it unlatched, to his shock. Justin then instinctively took the knife from his pocket and cautiously wandered inside before calling out loudly “HELLO, WHO’S IN HERE?” The reply caught him so unforeseen that Justin needed sit right there in the hallway, straight on the floor. It was Morgan. She called tenderly from the kitchen “Finally! Justin come in here, I have something to show you!”

            And as Justin lurched to his feet uneasily, still struggling to grasp the immense weight of the situation at hand as he then cautiously folded the blade, clipped it back onto his pocket, staggered into the kitchen and took hold of the island for support. Then looking over to Morgan’s sublime form as she stood in front of the range in his favorite Spam apron, she turned away from the stove and swept about face, leaning over the small island and meeting his lips with hers.   

            “Morgan, why didn’t you call? This place is an absolute mess!” Justin inquired in a tone of regret as Morgan scoffed and replied “Mess? Justin, you haven’t seen a mess! Remember, I used to live in dormitory housing. Not that it matters in the slightest anyhow, I came to see you! Now sit down, these eggs are ready.” “Oh wow, you remembered?” Justin exclaimed, taking note of the timer sitting on the stovetop.   

            “How could I forget Justin? 3 eggs boiled for 3 minutes, easy as pie.” Morgan confidently said as she took the tongs and placed three of the protein-rich, obviously cared-for eggs onto the plate she had set on the island there with flatware, napkin, and a glass of the tried-and-true Pom alongside. Sitting the remaining trio of eggs onto the identical setting beside she, laid the pan into the sink and ran a bit of water therein, then swayed over beside him and sat cozily close.

            “I see you remembered my hiding place for the spare key, too.” He said teasingly as she, in an equally teasing nature, replied “But of course. Again, how could I forget atop the front door jam, so very sensible?” Then salting his eggs that had been so fondly poached, he passed the shaker to Morgan and their hands grazed one another tenderly. Beaming smiles into one another’s affectionate look just then, the both of them felt incomparably loved and loving. 
          

           “So how’s the research coming Justin?” she inquired suddenly, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. “Actually Morgan, I haven’t made much progress at all. What, between nursing my wounds and the arduous teaching of those impossible brats.” He replied, lowering his head as he felt utter incompetence and shame.  “Justin, if I may be frank, you take yourself too seriously.” She retorted without a moment’s hesitation, thus revealing the underlying honesty.

            “However much I admire your ambition and perfectionism, I must say that you trip over your own feet quite a lot.” Morgan added so as to be brutally honest, for she knew Justin implored such. As he took a sizable bite of one of the eggs, Justin took note of how such was surely a true illustration of her limitless and unwavering love and thusly said “Thank you Morgan, and not just for the perfect eggs. I love you.”

 

          Absolutely inhaling the precious eggs he then sat, patiently waited for her to finish, and, when she had, motioned to take her plate. Morgan just stood, pulled her plate just out of his reach, grasped his dish instead, and casually strolled to the sink. Then feeling Justin creep up behind her, he reached around her torso and dropped the silverware into the sink, enclosed her cozy trunk in his embrace and squeezed affectionately, then whispered softly in her ear “You didn’t need to do all this Morgan.”

            “All what Justin, cook you three eggs?” she argued in a joking tone as Justin shrugged playfully and gestured with his hands implying ‘I guess so’. She just scoffed, flipped her hair femininely, and said “Justin, I’ve missed you a whole load. It makes me feel good to provide for a man as he labors, such that you undoubtedly do.” “Morgan, I love you.” Was the only thought he could force past his lips then, for he was absolutely drunk with tender ardor.

            “And I’m sorry to let you down, but I don’t see any solution for these few problems in my experimental method. They mock me night and day, rearing their ugly fire-breathing heads and haunting nearly my every dream!” He then asserted in overwhelming shame and regret. With such a remorseful revelation, Morgan swiftly strolled over to a small table in the lounge and dropped George Benson’s “The Very Best Of” album on so as to change the subject, for she knew Justin was so very passionate about Jazz that it would surely derail his line of thought.

            She merely spied a random groove on the worn vinyl as it turned and placed the needle therein. As if by divine intervention these words came beautifully flowing: “Nothin’s gonna change my love for you, you oughta know by now how much I love you.  One thing you can be sure of, I’ll never ask for more than your love.” As he elevated his stare just then, Justin spied her gorgeous smile utterly beaming its overwhelming comfort at him.

            With that combination of his two very favorite things in the world, every bit of sadness completely left him and, he sent a gaping smile directly into her intense stare. Justin then bounded to his feet, oblivious to the intense pain, strode over to the small stand, and enclosed her passionately in his arms. She laid her head on his shoulder, sighed in comfort, and softly voiced “I see why you love Jazz Justin. Does the music you choose always relate to your life so intimately?”

            “Well, come to think about it, yes it does. And I’ve often wondered if it’s more my love of the music, or its love of me.” “That’s pretty.” She softly said as another tune twanged on and it began with “You are the love of my life, I knew it right from the start. The moment I looked at you, you found a place in my heart.” Both of them immediately recognized the implications of such an astounding thing and propelled genuine smiles at one another as they exchanged ultimately affectionate stares.

             Then taking note of his leg as it quivered and he tried to conceal the underlying grimace in his gaze, Morgan simply began walking over to the sofa with his hand clasped in hers. She then noticed the black notebook lying there, as if it hadn’t moved an inch since she saw it last, and snatched it up. “You say you’ve been trying and can see no solution?” She said in a tone of disbelief as she flipped open the pad and thus proved that nothing had been added therein.

            “Justin, do you feel that bad?” She curiously inquired, turning and looking at him tenderly. “I know, I’m a pitiful excuse for a scientist.” He replied in a sense of complete defeat, as Morgan laid her head on his shoulder, somehow managed to press her body more completely into his, and said “Justin, you aren’t pitiful in any respect. I love you.” “I love you dear, oh I love you!” he managed to get out, as he was entirely enveloped in her essence by then and could barely contain thought.

Chapter 10

            With the staggeringly sobering revelation that night, Justin vowed to put everything aside and focus on his two main objectives. Those being the precious necklace he had sweated and bled for those past weeks and his faux-scientific endeavor into making the world a justifiably respectful place. The latter of which was no less important in his mind but, in some obscure way, had become less paramount.

            Then one morn, as he crunched on the dependable granola/yogurt concoction this time sprinkled with flaxseed as well, Justin had an epiphany which brought him suddenly and wholly to a solution regarding his biochemical toils. Thus he finished his meal in haste, not even bothering to clear the counter of the dirty dishes, and scrambled to the bureau in the study there. He messily scrawled an entirely virgin set of rules/hypotheses on some 23 fresh pages and, as Justin beheld the undeniable fruits of his laborious drudgery, he felt unequaled pride.

            His method was to encompass such conspicuous things as changing sleep patterns and eating habits, neither of which could be accomplished imperceptibly. Even if Justin could see no solution to this conundrum, he vowed to see his project through to the proof of concept at the very least. And although this had swiftly become an endeavor of some weight, his main focus remained the necklace; or the to-be-necklace if you like.

            Well if truth be told, his most pressing task had always been teaching. And so Justin went about his new methodology rather strictly. That is to say he spent increasingly less time toiling over lessons and thought experiments about his methodology of “thought pattern modulation leading to behavioral and cognitive changes beyond the scope once dreamt possible”, as on the hundreds of hours spent hunched over a workbench chipping, shaving, carving, sanding, and polishing on the ornately adorned pendant that bore a painstakingly embossed monogram of the perfect size and proportions.

            So there, in the woodshop, Justin arduously toiled into the wee hours of dawn for weeks upon weeks until one morn, suddenly, a fantastic revelation occurred to him. That is of a sublimely clever way of administering his tailored drug that made it nearly as innocuous as a flu shot. Fantastical inspiration always occurred to him in such a manner. I shan’t divulge his method herein for fear of future replication, and we can every one imagine the perfect Hell that such carelessness would surely turn this magnificent world into. But I digress…

            With this new bit of lucrative info, to which he alone was privy, Justin fell into a pattern of testing and reformation of his chemical solution unequaled since the advent of penicillin some 100 years prior. And about midday that next Saturday, straight after he had inhaled a copious serving of the fated granola/yogurt cocktail, Justin felt his neurons creating a lightning storm of sorts and thusly scrambled to the lab. 

            Fervently precipitating a solution and putting a slide of it under the scope (such was his passion); he then beheld the second most beautiful spectacle he could imagine. That is to say the final product of his onerous toiling… a mind control serum that would have negligible adverse effects on its recipient (such was his genius). Immensely excited, he immediately phoned Morgan and the conversation went something like this: “Morgie, babe, you can’t imagine how happy I am right now!” (Note: Justin never used pet names, excepting for times of extreme passion and fervor) “Well that’s great Justin, but I can’t chat right now.” “I understand, just know that I did it!” “Really Justin, that’s great!” “Come over tonight and I’ll show you.” “Sounds good, I’ll see you around 8.” “See you Morgan, I love you!” *click*

.           With those plans being established, Justin was entirely beside himself with anticipation, and consequently apprehension. He wanted desperately for Morgan to condone his plan.  She was the love destined for him, he had no doubt whatsoever. God brings the right people together at the right times, all one needs do is be faithful and patient. Having been exceedingly faithful, and also patient to the edge of collapse, Justin truly felt she was it. She was the one; Morgan.

            Such being the case, Justin considered professionalism a duty in this situation; and he took his duties seriously. Thusly, he decided to appear presentable for once in her presence. So he hurriedly stripped of the dirty apron, shirt, and trousers. Then tossing them into a hamper before going to the closet in his quarters, he  donned a smart button-up, slacks, and a vibrant bowtie, before taking seat on the trusty sofa and waiting patiently with a worn Vonnegut edition. 

            Then a confident rap came from the door and Justin was confused momentarily. But upon opening said door, he beheld Morgan’s elegant smile and all fear, dread, and/or worry was altogether negligible.  Opening the door invitingly and ushering her inside, as always, Justin then strolled down the narrow hallway holding her hand tenderly, urging her to follow. Then upon entering the lab, he pulled the single chair from under the bureau and gestured for her to take seat; saying “Here, I think you’ll want to sit for this one… I’m glad I was!”

            Then taking seat, as per his wish, she asked with an eager, hungry smile “Did you really do it Justin? Can you control peoples’ thoughts?” As he feigned ignorance to her inquiry and dropped to one knee, taking her left foot in hand and removing her shoe and sock. “What are you doing Justin? I thought you wanted to show me your solution to this vexing problem.” Morgan then said, almost in protest, as he began tenderly massaging the sole of her bared foot.  And such was evidently pleasurable because her head limply fell backward and she kicked her other shoe off, resting the semi-bared appendage on his thigh.

            As she moaned and sighed in approval and bliss over and again, Justin felt yet again prideful to some degree. Putting such thoughts aside, so as to concentrate on the task at hand, he then wiggled his fingers in between her toes and began to slide them about as his free hand gently caressed her heel-chord, before removing her right sock and doing the same. Such was his method for some 23 minutes thereon, lovingly kneading and stroking both of her tired, aching feet.

            Suddenly letting go and replacing her socks; Justin stood, looked her undeviatingly in the eye, and said “So we’re all square now… yeah?” Morgan simply grinned in approval and replied “I guess so Justin, I thought you had forgotten.” “Forget a wager, me? Never! ” he then exclaimed, winking playfully. At that very moment, Justin reached into his right front pocket and extracted an obviously hand-carved, purely white, box approximately the size and shape of a bar of soap.

            Projecting it toward Morgan, he smiled widely and said “Here you are then.” As she lowered her chin femininely and eyed the vessel in a curious tone, saying to him “Justin, what’s this? You shouldn’t have.” He just smiled widely and urged her to take the box, saying in reply “Oh yes I should have; and I did. I hope you like it.” Gasping as she excitedly opened the box and spied the prize therein Morgan raised an eyebrow and said “Justin, where’d you get this?”

            “You don’t like it, do you? Be honest friend.” He muttered in reply, looking to the floor. And to that she, without slightest hesitation, exclaimed “Yes Justin, I love it! Just please tell me where you got it.” “Mom gave it to me.” Was his attempt at a clever, innocuous reply as she eyed him strangely and said “Your mother?” He then flushed a pale cherry and said “Our Mom… all of humanity’s.” Quickly deducing his vaguely suggested meaning, (Morgan is just that smart) she gently laid the lovingly crafted box on the island there, scurried over to Justin, and enclosed him in an exceedingly warm embrace which endured for some seven minutes.

            “Justin, is that how you hurt your leg? Getting the wood for this from Mom?” Morgan then asked firmly as he, not making any hasty reply, took hold of her soft hands, peered directly into her person, and humorlessly said “Yes it is. And I don’t regret it for one second.” “But did you really need an entire tree to make this one charm?” she asked with curiosity, correctly assuming such was how his injury came about. “Well kind of, yeah. See how the grain pattern matches so perfectly with the contours here?” He then answered in a character of pride, as he raised her slightly trembling hands, urging her to look at a minute area of the piece he had indicated.

            “Wow Justin, you went through all that for me?” she then tenderly inquired, fighting the torrent of tears so that she could see his detailed scrollwork. He then groaned loudly and said, “Well if I was as capable as I should be at this stage in my life, I would’ve never gotten hurt.” feeling defeated and wholly inadequate. Morgan then motioned his chin upward with her outstretched knuckles and, looking him squarely in the eye, said “Justin it’s beautiful and I love it. Thank you.”

            “Well you deserve it Morgan… you have helped me more than I could ever say, and not just in a scholastic sense. You have helped me see more wholly the man I want to be.” Justin, feeling completely justified, said as she looked to him in a tone of admiration and asked “And how might that be the case Justin?” He simply smiled genuinely and stared into Morgan’s sublimely perfect eyes, saying “Morgan, I love you. Thusly, I want nothing more in this world than to be the object of your affection. And you deserve the absolute best.”

            Morgan blushed that oh so familiar shade, stepped closer, touched the tip of her nose to his, and said “Justin, why do you think so highly of me? I’m not a goddess.” as she wrapped her arms around his midsection and pulled his torso against hers. “Yes you are. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise! Morgan, I’m going to be completely honest and tell you something that may very well change your opinion of me forever…” Justin then said somberly, finally feeling comfortable enough with someone to get this off of his chest.

            “That day I met you in the café at our alma mater… I was going to go home and kill myself. I had it all planned. I’ll spare you the gory details; suffice it to say I was ready. But then I saw you eyeing me from across the way and wondered why... the rest is history. You treated me like an actual person, not just a peon or an invalid. Thank you.” He struggled to utter, his throat swelling and tears of love mixed with those of shame coursing down his flushed cheeks.

            Startled by such a non-characteristic revelation, she said “Oh my Justin, why would you ever do such a terrible thing? ... Nevermind... I was once browsing the library at good ol’ Northeast and happened upon this fantastic book called ‘The Unbearable Lightness of Being’. I’ll never forget one passage therein; it said…

           

            ‘The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man’s body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life’s most intense fulfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.”

            Justin was taken aback to say the very least. Thusly he stood frozen in position, eyes and mouth widely set, as he tried desperately to grasp the immense weight of what had just been said. Not being clever enough to craft a witty retort, he grinned in an expansive manner, clasped his hands together just atop the base of her spine, and squeezed with passion. ”Morgan, you’re so smart and I love you.” Justin then said as he felt his throat constricting and chest tighten.

            Struggling to find adequate words, he then frowned intensely and said “I’m going to go to my room now. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like… really, make yourself at home.” “Justin, please don’t.” she tenderly replied, piercing him with an intense stare of longing. “Morgan, please don’t worry… I’m not mad or depressed; I just need to be alone for a while, and that’s okay. I promise.” He said, pulling her hips closer and caressing the sides of her nose with his own.

            Reaching behind herself, she took his hands into hers and gripped firmly, then saying “Justin, I’ve known many a depressed person, and you’re exhibiting those exact characteristics right now. I’m worried.” “Morgie please don’t worry; I’m okay… really.” He said gently before realizing his own selfish nature just then and adding “But if it’ll make you feel more comfortable, you can come and sleep in my bed.” “Thank you Justin, let’s go.” She replied, taking his hand and prancing down the corridor, past the study, and into the bedroom.

            Flipping the light on Justin, as he folded the blanket and sheet down, said “There are some lounging pants in the top right drawer there.” as he pointed to the large handmade dresser just behind Morgan and she turned, opened said drawer, extracted two pairs of fleece bottoms, and laid them on the bed. Wanting to be a hospitable host, he then said “You can have the bathroom first. And feel free to use my toothbrush; I swear I don’t have cooties or anything.”

            “Thanks.” She cheerily said, prancing past his figure and straight into the lou, lounging pants in hand and an intoxicating smile across her face. He then emptied his pockets, donned the pair of pants she had so lovingly laid out for him there, and waited patiently as the notion of her being incomparably fantastic was concreted in his psyche over and again by a seemingly endless stream of inquiries and subsequent affirmations running through at speeds that would baffle astrophysicists.

            So Justin lie there, microsleep taking hold every two minutes or so, with his arm draped snugly around her midsection as he took breath after exceedingly deep breath, not only to revel more completely in the scent of Morgan’s follicles as they lay draped across his nose but also, to aid in the release of calming hormones so as to make proper use of the microsleep he was experiencing then and be energetic upon her waking.

Chapter 11

           
             Peering over to the window he could see faint indications of sunlight as the glorious blazing sphere peeked shyly over the mountaintops and shone its lively essence in through the shades there. Conceiving an excellent fashion to wake her in, Justin then cautiously slid from behind her and from under the sheet. Slithering to the kitchen he then prepared a lavish breakfast for them both and, upon finishing his task, quickly went and retrieved his most precious Dreadnaught acoustic before tip-toeing into the center of the bedroom and kneeling so as to better align the soundhole of the instrument with her ear.

            At precisely seven a.m. he began to fingerpick lightly and sing as melodically as he could manage, as Gershwin surely intended it: “They all laughed at Christopher Columbus when he said the world was round. They all laughed when Edison recorded sound. They all laughed at Wilbur and his brother when they said that man could fly. They told Marconi wireless was a phony, it’s the same old cry. They laughed at me wanting you, said I was reaching for the moon. But oh you came through, now they’ll have to change their tune.  They all said we never could be happy, they laughed at us and how. But oh, oh, oh, who’s got the last laugh now?”

            Be his voice off pitch by quite a substantial number of megahertz or no Morgan lazily opened her eyes, listed to her right side, gazed at him in admiration, upon his finishing applauded hungrily, and exclaimed “Another! Another!” “Are you sure Morgan?” he replied in disbelief, never having had a willing audience before.  She then sincerely replied “Yes Justin, I want to hear another; unless you don’t want to… in which case I understand fully.”

            To which Justin’s retort was to begin picking an arpeggio sequence filled with intervals, before bursting into song with “Ooooooohhhhhh, there’s a lull in my life. It’s just a void and empty space, when you are not in my embrace. Oh, the moment that you go away, there is no night, there is no day. The clock… stops ticking. The world… stops turning. Everything stops, but that flame in my heart that keeps burning, yearning oh, oh, oooohhhh.”As he then, no longer able to contain his emotion, stopped playing, leaned the guitar against a convenient wall and slumped over piteously.

 

            Standing and strolling over as he sat there, face cradled in his outstretched hands and tears absolutely flowing through his fingers, she swathed his suddenly icy core in her tender embrace, laid her head atop his, and they melted into one another for some thirty-seven minutes. Between sniffles and sobs Justin then raised his head slightly, crinkled his brow, and said “Listen Morgan, I’m sorry.” Realizing it utterly futile to fight the tears of affection urging to pour down her own face... she softly said “Why?” and squeezed his form more wholly into hers than she had ever done with anyone as the brook of joyful tears came cascading indeed.

           

            “There’re eggs and bacon on the kitchen table if you want some.” Justin said, pointing to the door before bending his right arm, bringing his palm to the side of her face and cradling it in a manner so as to acknowledge her inestimable value. Turning her face slightly, so as to graze her nose upon his, Morgan then said “I just need to hit the head first.” before springing to her feet, turning, winking femininely at Justin as he sat there; arms now wrapped around his knees; and scurrying into the restroom.

            Then, after some short time skipping merrily back to the bedroom, Morgan spied him still on the floor hunkered in a tight ball, somehow more pathetic than before, rocking to and fro and inconspicuously humming a melody. Stooping down just behind him she then laid her soft hands atop his scapulae and began caressing in small circular motions, being sure to cradle the obviously strained processes thereon and knead the knotted muscles lovingly so as to help release the palpable tension therein. Suddenly she recognized the tune: it was Ænima by Tool.

            Reaching backward Justin took hold of her left hand as it neared his sacrum and, in a tenor of sincerity paired with remorse, said “Morgan, it’s not that I’m depressed or anything but… given the weight of my situation paired with my own penchant for pessimism…” As she then curled an outstretched finger around to his quivering lips and sternly interjected “I’m not leaving you now Justin. I want to help you. Consider how Chet Baker put it so eloquently: ‘Look for the silver lining, whene’er a cloud appears in the blue. Remember somewhere the sun is shining, and so the right thing to do… is make it shine for you. A heart full of joy and gladness will always banish sadness and strife. So always look for the silver lining, and try to find the sunny side of life.”

            Absolutely stunned by the validity of such a reference just then Justin stood, turned about, and embraced her form in every respect as he, in their assumed manner, grazed his nose sweetly upon hers and peered into the very core of her being such as to affirm his profound appreciation. And their lips seemed to fall onto one another’s, as if compelled by some atomic force; like they belonged together and had always. And as their genuine passion made itself palpable both Morgan and Justin, at the very same instant, opened their eyes only to observe, merely inches away, the raging deluge of big salty tears streaming therefrom.

            “Justin I want to ask you something important, alright?” Morgan suddenly queried with no provocation of any sort as she pulled back a slight bit and fixed her gaze upon the center of his face. And as Justin began to squirm about in his seat there he softly replied “Okay, anything you want to know, what’s up?” She averted her stare slightly before humming a few bars and breaking into melody with “How deep is your love, how deep is your love? I really need to learn, 'cause we're living in a world of fools; breaking us down when they all should let us be. We belong to you and me.”

            Stunned speechless by such an affective reference just then, Justin crinkled his brow slightly and embraced her core in such a complete fashion as to once more meld their bodies into a single form. Then he softly whispered into her ear “Morgan, you are the light of my life.”, as his astoundingly humid quintessence wafted over her cartilage.  And such a feeling served only to amplify her elation just then; for she grinned genuinely, someway managed to draw him closer yet, and tenderly replied “Good answer. Makes me wonder…”

            “Wonder what exactly?” Justin then said, completely oblivious. “Well I wonder… You think I’m pretty, right?”she inquired curiously, gazing at his portraiture with one elevated eyebrow, as he sat there with his own look of curiosity. “Pretty is really inadequate. But yeah, you could say that.”  he responded firmly in confusion. “Well pretty is just how good you apply your base. So I wonder what you’d think of me straight after a shower, before I put my base on.” “Hence the inadequacy of the word pretty to describe you, Morgie.” Justin riposted, feeling justified in toto.

            “Well that’s just a technicality Justin.” She replied hastily, as if to scold or reprimand him. “Good then. I hate to be pompous, but I consider myself a scientist of sorts. And if such cannot be expected from a scientist, then from who?” he replied in a sincere timbre of curiosity. She then avidly retorted “An asshole. But you exemplify no other characteristics of such, so once again Justin… you’ve proven yourself an enigma.” “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Morgan, you’re so smart and I love you.” he replied with a vast warmth and tender conviction beaming from his person.

Chapter 12

 

            And so things progressed in such fashion for 6 more weeks, until the school semester was over and Justin had the summer to show Morgan just precisely how much it was that he loved her. And then, one fine day like any other, Justin rode slowly back home from the quaint country store down the narrow mountain pass on his trusty Schwinn; only to arrive home, bouquet of red roses in hand, and upon hobbling up the steps and into the door was greeted nonchalantly with a certain air of disinterest.

            “Hey, welcome back.” She mumbled, never daring to look up from the book that was laid in her lap. Justin initially thought nothing of it and made his way to the sofa, bouquet held precariously behind his back, bending over to kiss her cheek. Morgan never made any sort of acknowledging gesture other than to sigh, as if vexed by the interruption. And so Justin, seeing her deep in concentration, gently laid the bouquet on the small table in front; positioned so that she was sure to notice whenever she could tear herself away from the tale.

            So as Justin took seat at his bureau and, upon opening the worn leatherbound notebook thereon, began to ponder his own shortcomings. Aforementioned including, but in no way limited to, inquires such as that of had he become complacent, even in the least capacity? For there was never a doubt in his mind that she deserved, nay, warranted the absolute apex of affections from whosoever she was the target of endearment. Had he, indeed, allowed their newfound happiness with one another become so banal as to divert her attentions and aspirations?

            With these sobering inquiries haunting his mind, Justin then slumped forward in his chair, laid his elbows atop the cold, flat, polished surface of the bureau; and began to sob as tears started pouring from his cheeks onto the open notebook in front of him there. Said notebook having been opened to a fresh page and now having only the habitual MLA heading and a single line scrawled thereon.

           

            Said line reading, verbatim, “Am I worthy?” followed by unintelligible scribbling so as to fill the white space left unoccupied. For, as may have been surmised by the casual reader, he utterly despised feelings of loneliness; and therefore tried to spare even inanimate objects under his influence such appearance. Justin was just odd that way.  And the abject nature of the predicament his psyche presented to him then served only to dishearten Justin to the point of becoming dismal.

            Startlingly he heard an avid rap on the threshold as he looked up and beheld her sublime form, arms akimbo, and was instantly whisked to the scene when he had first beheld such. That is of the night she had returned after having revealed to him the solution to his biochemical frustrations; thus proving, in his mind, her loyalty and unwavering trustworthiness. As he pondered such a smile crept to his face; but these were immediately dismissed by the next words from her mouth.

            “Justin, we need to talk.” were the words spoken. And he could discern, from her timbre and gait as she strolled over, that bad news was imminent. “Yes Morgie, what is it?” he answered in sincere curiosity. “Don’t call me that… I think I should stop coming here, for both our sakes. I feel that I’ve been holding you back from developments in your experimentation. And as much as I love you Justin, I just cannot stand watching you sabotage your own success on my account.”

            Justin swallowed hardily, wiped the unprecedented tears of sorrow from his cheeks, and said, in the most sincere tone he could muster in such a time of regret, “But Morgan, can’t we just try to work this out?” “There’ve been some new developments in my life Justin. You understand.” she quipped back unexpectedly. And, as he had not fully wrapped his conscious mind around the implications of what had been presented to him then, he once more swallowed hard and replied “Well, if you truly feel that way Morgan, I won’t presume to know what’s best for you.” bowing his head in shame and overwhelming regret as this new weight made itself palpable.

            And just then, at that tender moment, these words came piercing from the stereo: “I’m in your arms and you’re kissing me. But there seems to be something missing, in your kissing. The love we knew is just a memory; it turned into a comedy.” And as these profoundly relevant words came streaming from the hi-fi there Justin took note of such and was instantaneously elevated once more to a bearable state with thoughts of how, if nothing else, the music he loved would be there for him in times of necessity.

            “Then I guess this is goodbye.” he then said calmly, to her amazement. “I suppose so Justin, I’m sorry; but the heart wants… right?”Morgan replied somehow calmly as he overtly lifted his chin and flashed a genuine smile at her portraiture. Then saying “Indeed so Morgan, indeed so. I wish you the best.” as she effortlessly strolled out the door, never turning back, so as to avoid eye contact and spare the both of them any unnecessary pain.

Chapter 13

            Justin rose with the sun, after taking care of his sanitary ritual, strolled into the den and began browsing the rack of albums there for something befitting of his mood then. He slid the worm sleeve from the handmade wooden rack and slipped the vinyl free of its paper sleeve as he savored the sound of the rough grooves gliding against the alternately smooth sheet. “Elementary pleasures.” He thought to himself as a smile crept to his face, the first genuine one in weeks. Then slithering over to the player there and dropping the platter on. And as it began to spin at 33 RPM Justin gingerly lowered the sharp needle into a groove and walked away.

            Smoothly striding to the kitchen, as he was by now able, Justin pulled a bowl and glass from the cabinet and, as per his ritual, assembled the yogurt and granola with a glass of Pom. As he sat at the island there, again as per ritual, crunching and savoring away he began humming in time with the tune audible from the den.  “Blue Rhondo a’la Turk” was one of his, if not his absolute, favorite pieces of classic jazz. And as the inherent grin crept across his face he began wondering if Morgan would appreciate this piece.

            “Away with these thoughts!” he then screamed loudly. For Justin knew all too well the nature of his mind and the effects of such ponderings as he had, just some 2 weeks prior, been subject to. “Medicine is great. We’ve come a long way since its virginity.” He spoke aloud as he strolled to the sink; put the dishes therein, and opened the cabinet. Then extracting the small bottle of SSRI that had been prescribed by the psychiatrist he had been seeing those past weeks and swallowing his prescribed dose; which was 500 micrograms every 12 hours.

            Feeling as he should occupy his mind while the psychoactive took effect, he then went to the den, sank into the luxurious sofa, and picked up his trusty notebook. Sliding the pencil from the sleeve on front he turned to a fresh page,    made his customary MLA heading and began composing an autobiography of sorts; not in hopes of being one day published, but more as a release mechanism for his ever-active mind. Justin fancied doing such every now and again; only to look back on his previous compositions at a later date and reflect thereon.

            This spiral-bound notebook, one of many in the annals of his archive, was meant to be purely of a reflective nature. That is to say it contained what would be categorized by most as a journal of sorts; be it half-filled with archaic schematics and diagrams or no; for he fancied studying. And as he saw it, what subject was he in a better place to understand than himself? “None.” Justin said aloud, as per his nature of needing to fill the air with sound waves; be they of his own unintelligible creation or not.

            And so there he sat for some 5 hours, breaking only for trips to the restroom, until unexpectedly he caught ear of the dated telephone jingling away. He calmly laid the open notebook on the short table in front, leaned to the small end-table and picked up the receiver. “This is Nunley.” he casually answered before a timid female voice came barely audibly coursing through the lines.

            “Justin, this is Jennifer; from the general store, you know?” came through in a gentle tone, as was her predilection. But especially on this particular call, for she had an agenda of her very own design concerning this. “Oh Jennifer, hey, what’s happening?” he replied in a bright manner, as he had an affinity for her gentle voice. “Nothing really, I was just calling to see if you maybe possibly wanted to go out for dinner sometime.” she then said confidently, as he had an intrinsic way of inspiring such in others.       

            “I have a better idea. Why don’t you let me cook you dinner sometime?” Justin then posed in equally as confident a manner, what, having been thrilled by the notion. “Really Justin? That would be great! When?” she replied in a certain tone of delight. “Well I’m not busy right now. How’s that sound?” Justin replied as nonchalantly as he could. With that suggestion, her face nearly audibly transformed from one of hesitance/doubt into one of elation/giddiness as she avidly replied “That would be wonderful Justin. What time am I to arrive?” To that he calmly said “Any you like, I’m not going anywhere; and neither is my kitchen.”

            Barely able to contain her elation by then, Jennifer took an exceedingly deep breath and, feeling the torrent of hormonally-induced tension wither, then semi-calmly said “Would 6 be alright?” “1800 sounds perfect!” Chuckling barely at the scientific manner in which Justin used 24 hour time just then, she swallowed so as to help contain her excitement and said “Should I bring anything?” To which his rapid retort was “Not at all. I invited you here so I could treat you to a meal; and that’s just what’s going to happen.”

            “Well I should go if I am to be ready by then.” Jennifer spoke into her tele and, as Justin caught ear of such, he said “Alright, I’ll see you then Jenn. Oops, can I even call you that?”  “I don’t see why not; everybody else does.” “Okay, see you then Jenn.” And with that the both of them, nearly at the very same instant, clicked the receiver and the conversation was ended in mutual delight.

            Having some 5 hours until the abovementioned time, Justin decided to go sit outside and take in some vitamin D as the sun shone its unadulterated essence onto the landscape. And so, now lying comfortably in the soft grass and gazing up to the azure sky containing only Cirrus clouds high in the Troposphere, Justin was at peace; pure Zen. That is to say he felt as if some excessively burdensome weight had just been alleviated. “The Weight. That’d make a good song.” Justin said aloud between chuckling aloud so as to make his torso quiver uncontrollably at the false notion of being as clever as “The Band” and thusly finding, yet again, comfort in legendary music.

            As if by insanity, boredom, or divinity; he could not decide, he had an epiphany regarding the morality of his biochemical uncovering. Justin had, until this time, assumed that the chemical solution must need to be administered in an innocuous fashion. But now, after great consideration, he imagined that his concept could very well be accepted among the reputable scientific community if only it was tested and affirmed by professionals; such as medical researchers, pharm. techs., physicians, and the like.

            The only reason he could imagine that this stunningly simple concept had not made itself intelligible until now was that of how the ‘wool’ must have been ‘pulled over his eyes’ by his endearment for, no, seduction by, Morgan. “Banish such hostilities. ‘the heart wants’ after all.” Clamping his eyelids shut then, Justin rolled to his back, stretched his arms, and hugged Mom and Dad. That is to say he was embracing Mother Nature and his Heavenly Father in such a manner as to surrender his will and let theirs be done.

           

            And so about another 3 hours later; after lazily absorbing Mom’s essence, Justin stood and meandered on back indoors. Going to the kitchen, he then set about preparations for the planned meal with his friend. Extracting various pots, pans, plates, flatware, and glassware from the cabinets and setting the kitchen table in a quite particular and ornate fashion, he then pulled a large pork loin from the deep freeze and set it alongside the range; so as to let the meat come up to room temperature and thusly be in a better state for cooking.

            Feeling as if he should make this encounter have favorable memory, he then decided upon a dessert to make, Tiramisu it was to be; one of his favorites and surely likewise for her. Thusly Justin then set about the necessary tedious prep work regarding this dish.  Said work including, but in no way limited to, retrieving his finest bottle of rum from the cellar, being sure he had fresh mascarpone in the fridge, enough eggs on hand, and enough coffee beans to do for the dessert as well as for the espresso to sip afterward, or during; however she fancied.

            Some hours later he heard a timid rapping on the solid front door. Did such shock Justin? Startle… no, surprise… yes; quite so indeed. So much so, in fact, that he toppled from the temperate depression in the sofa that he had created to the bare floor with a resounding thud.  Then wobbling unsteadily to his feet and over to the door, before unlatching and slowly opening it only to see Jennifer standing there cutely, one leg bent so that the calf was parallel to the decking and opposite hand near her chin, indico and medio fingers resting thereon and beaming an elegant smile straight at him.

            Justin was taken aback at the sight of her timeless figure standing there, bathed in the milky moonlight with the faintest shadow cast therefrom onto the dark decking. “Come in, come in!” he immediately exclaimed, stepping aside and extending an arm, so as to welcome her into his modest abode. Then slowly meandering inside and turning, so as to thrust her nose mere microns from Justin’s, she then said “So I surmise you’re a scientist Justin; what, from all the scholarly texts to that end that you check out on a weekly basis. May I know a vague idea of the nature of your research/development?”

            “A scientist, you say? Well I wouldn’t say that so much as a pseudo scientist of sorts. I fancy dabbling in this and that; an amateur as it were.” Justin replied humbly. To which her quick retort was “Oh poppycock Justin. Who else but a scientist would regularly check out books entitled ‘Biochemistry of The Brain’, ‘Social Hormones’, and countless other reference literature concerning human chemistry and psychology? And that’s not to mention your apparent fascination with the scientific method.”

            “Okay, okay; you caught me. I’ve been doing some independent research concerning what I call ‘thought pattern modulation leading to behavioral and cognitive changes beyond the scope once dreamt possible.’” He humbly replied just knowing that, like everyone else, she would simply scoff and think him a fool.”Thought pattern modulation, you say? Mind control is it then?” Jennifer countered in an inquisitive character as she cast an innocent gaze at him.

            Scoffing modestly, Justin replied “Well not mind control, per say, this method is closer to suggestion. Subliminal, as it were.” “I see then; no more manipulative than an advert.” She responded gleefully, as was her disposition. To which he raised his portraiture and, now feeling understood in toto, exclaimed “Precisely my dear, there you have it! If only society could be as bright and not prone to assumption as you. But alas…”

            “Such are people, I get it.” Jennifer softly uttered, then lowering her gaze slightly, so as to acknowledge the legitimacy of his questionable method and internally reflect thereon. “You do?” he inquired in an astonished tone; for that he had never, from the few choice folks with whom he had disclosed his research, met anything but disapproval and condemnation regarding such. “Yeah Justin, believe me when I say that I know all too well how ignorant and arrogant people can be.” she replied with, what Justin perceived to be, sincere and familiar experience.

             “So tell me then, how might you administer this tailored drug whilst avoiding suspicion? For you would surely be arrested if this scheme were uncovered.” Jennifer asked with a certain air of concern in her voice. “Indeed so Jennycakes. Indeed so. Hence my conundrum because, as strong as I fancy myself, I just know that prison would kill me. And that begets the question: does this endeavor warrant death for its partaker?”

           

            She immediately leaned forward so as to bring an element of intimacy to her next words, which were: “Justin, you are an astoundingly fantastic person and nothing you hear me, absolutely nothing, you might do short of genocide would warrant your death.” Blushing fiercely, he peered into her sincere eyes and said “Wow Jenn, you flatter me. But I’m really not fantastic enough to deserve such affections. I mean sure, I may be a rather smashing chap at times. But does that alone deserve absolution of any offense?”

            To which Jennifer simply leaned in further, caressed his nose with hers, took hold of his cheeks, and, penetrating any doubtful resistance he may put forth, said firmly “Justin, there’s a fine line between modesty and arrogance. You must know well your own merit. I mean after all, how can a smashing young man not realize his own status as such?” Then, after inhaling enormously, she continued “And don’t try any of those clever circumlocutions of yours, I will see straight through.”