"I'm not going to change the way I look or the way I feel to conform to anything. I've always been a freak. So I've been a freak all my life and I have to live with that, you know. I'm one of those people.”
― John Lennon
John watched Veronica's car pull away from the curb outside the Coat of Arms. The night had a bite to it, and he could feel it in his throat. He shivered in his jacket as he crossed the street to his own car.
Once inside, he stared at the slip of paper he had slid over to Veronica. The sound of her voice was still an echo in his head.
Promise me you won't call the number...
That was the the thing. He had to call it. All those girls who sat on the whiteboard in his office needed him to call it as well.
So, he dialed.
It rang twice. A voice on the other end answered calmly.
"Hello."
John's mind went white for a second. He regretted not asking Veronica more about the protocol of one of these phone calls.
"Uh, hi."
"Can I help you?"
"Depends. I'm looking for a party."
John smacked a hand to his forehead. He hoped the voice on the other end hadn't heard the transparency in his voice.
"Sorry?" the voice shot back, "I don't think I understand."
"Oh, I was told this was a number to call for a big get together over the weekend."
"It is, huh? Well, news to me. Sounds to me like you got some bad intel. Have a good night."
The line went dead. John removed the phone from his ear and stared at it. What had just happened? In his mind he had built up the voice on the other end of the line to sound menacing, powerful, capable of the things that Veronica had told him about.
Instead, it felt like he had just been talking to someone who ought to be selling health insurance. He dropped the phone into the center console and sat with his hands on the wheel for a moment.
Maybe it was the chill in the air or the conversation with Veronica, but whatever it was, he very badly wanted to get home and crawl into bed next to his wife.
I hope you understand what these mean now.
It's a letter written by yourself, to yourself.
You're the master crafter and these are designed to show you the way home.
You see something happened to you, John.
Something so bad that you had a hard time telling the difference between what was real and what was imaginary. That'll do a number on someone. The good news is you were smart enough to make these ... road maps we'll call them.
These roadmaps help you make sense of the world around you.
Remember that speech of how every minute needed to be accounted for?
If you can account for every minute you can account for what's real.
You're so close, John. At the time of this letter that tiny room of yours should be in the rearview mirror. I do hope you're reading this in the car. (Carl's keys were in his jacket pocket, right?).
If everything fell into place like I knew it would then you should be on your way.
I truly hope you find the answers you're looking for, John.
After all ... you deserve them.
The phone buzzing on his lap stirred him awake. John squinted into the light above his desk he had in his basement for his home office. A sharp pain pinched his neck and he brought his legs down from where they had been resting on top of all the paperwork on the desk.
"Hello?"he asked into the phone as he rubbed a knuckle into his eye.
"The stars are down."
John felt a shiver ripple across his scalp.
"What?"
"Use that to enter the auction tomorrow night."
John searched under the clutter on the desk for a piece of paper that had some room to write on it.
"Where's the auction being held?"
"Seven Emery Circle. Midnight. Dress for a funeral."
John scribbled the address down and in the process almost broke the tip of the pencil. "What type of auction is this?"
The line clicked and the caller was gone. He tossed the phone on the desk and checked his watch. It was quarter past two in the morning. He stood and turned off the light over the desk. The air in the basement was cold, like the rest of the house had been lately.
Upstairs he stood in the doorway of the bedroom and watched his wife sleeping soundly. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. John crawled in under the warm sheets next to her and wrapped his arms around her smooth body.
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