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In the barn, a tabby darted away froht, just me and the old black Percheron in his stall I drifted over and he cae of the stall He knew this routine He lowered his lued him around the neck

"Hey pal," I said,Mike said that crying is a cathartic release and soe body made the stall door creak His neck was pure ," I whispered

Even in the cool , the barn arm The smells of hay and feed permeated the air I pressed an to slip frohter stood in the doorway s atwholesoies," I et you" She lifted an eht to see him"

I shoved irl ca--black silky hair, freckles, blue eyes She wore her hair in a long braid down her spine I saw her pretty much every tiht be seekingYou know, she really loves doing that She won't let irl caain, I was drunk--lost to that space-time shit

"Well, yeah," I irl chuckled She rose onto her toes and wrapped her arms around my shoulders Her breasts brushed my chest "Matt?" she whispered

I didn't move I felt like a lump of clay Her ar closer Her breath tickledI stood there listlessly and stared at the barn wall

"Why are you so sad?" the girl said "You're so sad Let me try to make you happy"

A cold, familiar smirk distorted my lips

"You think you can?" I said

"I know I can I'll take care of you" The girl's handsup in their wake I only becae of s while I was here More fat, azing down iripped my soft cock and I saw her brows knit My s irl dropped to her knees I had to hand it to her--she was deteran and sucked at the tip When she glanced up at h her eyes

My cock had zero interest

I shrugged, and then started to laugh helplessly The girl turned red

"Nice try, kid," I said

I tucked my member away, did up hter works as well as tears

I ot back to the cabin I pushed the down small bites with bourbon Somehow, the booze and pharhout the day, butdeal; nausea coot too drunk to see straight I'd hit a roadblock in The Surrogate My protagonist was about toI wanted to write a steaes weren't flowing

Usually I could sit back, iine a scene, and transcribe it Not this ti it I wanted to write it for her

I tried to reconnect with the passion we used to feel In es were sterile Hands on skin,toPam feed my novel to Hannah anyway? There was no point Three months had passed Hannah and I were definitely over

I could barely remember the sound of her voice, the smell of her hair

She had become an idea

I sentfor the signs

I woke on the couch At soed into a pair of loose pajama pants The cold bit at me and I let it Sotwo shots and a Xanax, I called Mike

Mike was still a decent psychiatrist, even if I didn't trust him He set me up with meds before I flew out to New York I called him from time to time A thirty-minute call to Mike cost me a hundred bucks, but the ?"

"Fine You know, good Is it a good time?"

"Yes, sure"

I heard a door close

"Look, who transcribes your notes?" I said

"Matthee've been over this I--"

"No, I know But Hannah's mom, she does that, you know? The transcription stuff And I was thinking, if she types your notes"

Mike was one of very few people who didn't cutworked in his monetary favor I still appreciated it

"You know, that would be bad for h the cabin Shadows pooled on the floor I had no idea what time it was or even what day I lost whole weeks to the rhyths I want to say But no one can know It gets onto the internet and everywhere"

The Mike-Hannah's ht about it a lot There was Hannah's mother and the ht be conversing, but how could I ever find out?