Blythe
I spend the better part of the next few days in the spare bedroom Terrence had generously lent me against his will. Nothing seems to be happening, everyone at a stalemate. I had read two long novels with my free time and am currently sitting with a hardcover copy of Gone with the Wind. I had read the book when I was younger at my moms wish. She used to have me read it aloud to her. The nostalgia is jarring but I am fond of the memories it brings.
I have an empty cup of coffee beside me on the dresser. I had eaten breakfast with Terrence and Spencer but once I was done my plate I took my mug and locked myself back in my quarters. It's become standard. I am always alone—I prefer it as such. Time goes by quickly yet I can never recollect why it moves that way. The same thing happens
