The Dollmaker

VII.

Annie sat in her room that night, staring at the boxes of stuff she had packed. She was sitting at her desk, writing down notes about Vincent, and was starting to fall asleep. She hadn't told her brother that she went to dinner with him or was staying yet. He was still too upset and worried. 

Scratching her sore wrist, she re-read everything she wrote. 

                April 17th:

                I have asked Vincent Cole to dinner and spoke with him for a good four hours. I asked him the questions on our list and he answered every one of them. He did not appear nervous or untruthful. I conclude that he is sane for now. He does show signs of depression and perhaps post traumatic stress disorder, but I do not think he is dangerous. I will continue to observe him.

Rubbing her temples, she put her quill away and left her paper to dry. Climbing into bed, she lay down and let her thoughts take over. There was a lot to think about recently, but her mind went instantly to Vincent.

'Do you think I'm a madman?' he had asked. The question rang in her head. After her talk with him and the eye opening and meaningful conversations, she began to wonder if maybe everybody was. Everyone did things another thought odd and unbelievable that were completely normal to themselves. Were people odd or did that make no one odd? Was she even making sense? Maybe she was odd...

She tried to get him off her mind, but she couldn't. She hadn't fallen for him, but he was just so beautiful and rare of a soul to not think about.  He was quiet, but talkative; deep but yet innocent; and something deep inside of her wanted to explore the man.  He was hiding secrets in a way that made him seem to want to protect the world. 

Annie listened to the crickets chirp as she lay in bed. Night was such a calming but dangerous creature.