I'd Rather Go Blind

26th May 1958

Dear diary, how I envy you. All the interesting parts of my life happen to you at once! There is a reason for that: I've kept my promise to spare you the minutiae. When something mediocre happens -- something which doesn't involve my favorite -- I jot it in a less important notebook. You get the highlights! I hope that brings you some pride.

The night after my venison dinner, Sally and I saw a production of The Seagull. You know me, any excuse to throw on a nice outfit...! It was nice to go out, not so much for the show, which I've seen many times, but for imagining that I am liked. More than tolerated, for once. The only sour note was the man next to Sally struck up a flirtation conversation, even giving her his card. I doubt she'll even call him! That's the difference between us, though... she can be shockingly ungrateful.

"Give me that card," I told her, "and let's track him down and eat him."

"Ha! Oh, Rosie, be serious!"

I rather objected to her tone... but a wise person does not strangle her friends.

For a few days, I went on restorating the wardrobe, and it was shaping up nicely. (If no-one buys it in two months, I'll keep it for myself.) There was no sign of Alastor on the streets. I grew lonely and sullen; compulsion led me to cover the kneehole of my wooden bureau with his name. I used a Magic Marker, and afterwards, dizzy from solvent fumes, I lay underneath, as a mechanic lies beneath a car, to examine my handiwork. If I squint, the writing makes a pretty damask-like pattern... and I alone know it's there!

I had plenty of time to prepare for future Alastor encounters. Yours truly has owned a Brownie for years, and rarely had cause to break it out; but just in case, I made my coat pocket its new home, and ventured out to buy film. However, it was hard to guess where I might see Alastor. There is much difference between film types meant for poorly-lit indoors, vs. sunny outdoors. The man recommended Daylight Kodacolor. It is more expensive, but worth it to capture his many shades of red! Besides, I reasoned, an outdoor encounter was more likely at this stage.

My instincts proved correct: on May 22nd, while on my lunch break, I saw him again. (!!!) He was walking the other side of Acadia Rd. with that slight pep in his step, same as ever! My heart beat louder than a drum, dear diary. Once he passed me, I crossed to his side of the street -- on my toes, not to announce myself with click-clacking -- and sped up to him by floating, to a distance of ten feet, then returned to walking in the same way. With trembling hands, I used the Brownie to pluck from the air four micro-seconds of his unwitting existence. Snap! A hasty lowering of the camera. A moment to hide the thing in my coat and turn the wind-knob, and then the next shot. Snap!

Two blocks later, he took a sudden hard right, swinging into a dental office, and I chose not to follow. I know, dear diary, but hear me out! Such appointments can cause anxiety. I'm sure most people don't want to make a new friend right before a stranger pokes at their gums!

Before long, I had my film developed. The camera's scope is decent, though it fails to capture my Alastor the way he deserves. For a start, the photos were grainy and blurred. Some blur is explained by his walk, which is honestly exciting... but alas, my skittishness is chiefly to blame. One photograph shows him turning a corner, and I'm lucky he didn't see me then, in his periphery. (He may be short-sighted.) One can just make out Alastor's face, and the curve of his lashes. This will be the photograph I keep close to my heart, dear diary! Lord knows with my layers of clothing, it will stay in place!

That week, Sally noticed I was soupy-in-love, and asked who was the unlucky fellow? (Hardy har...) At first, I preferred to keep Alastor a secret, but something changed my mind. Perhaps I wanted to show Sally I had prospects, or wanted to confirm he was real... or I was just excited. Anyway, she got to see my photographs.