After Max gave his farewell, gathered his coat and closed the door behind him, a small smile creeped up on my lips. Touching the chair where he had lain his coat, I could feel the dampness of the rain that the coat had left there. I leaned against the fromt door and let the feeling of pleasantness and peace that had been puddling at me feet wash over my entire body like a wave from the ocean. It felt so good to know that you could create feelings in people, you talk and they respond and they leave radiating joy and the feeling of another problem solved. I was happy for him

As much as I knew about how he felt and how he lived, through talk and picking things up through that sixth sense, a prt of Max still remained for me a secret. That was one of the things I loved about him; he was such a sweet mystery. That was one of the grand things about being human,; no matter how much you learned, how many hallways you found, there would always be new doors needing new keys that would lead off to new hallways. You could learn for a lifetime and still not know the tiniest bit of all there is to know. At least there was always something new.

I left the door, took a candle from a drawer, lit it, and then turned off the lights. There was a sort of medieval feel to getting your light from a candle in a holder. Or a feel like someone in the 1900s staring out a window in the country and writing poetry to a long-distance love. Well, sometimes I get carried away...

I walked over to my window, sat down in an armchair, and pulled the window open. Though it was a city I was in, the air smelled sweet, enhanced by the freshly fallen rain. I took it in and let it out as if it were some sort of ritual, maybe some means of purification. So many of the things I do begin to feel as if I'm performing a ritual of some sort. I like it, makes me feel like I have power over things. Maybe I do.

I picked up the phone and put it to my ear, listening to the drone of the dial tone, then pressed the numbers in a combination I had memorized, one that was meant to get Andrea's voice to replace the dial tone. It was interesting the way that worked.

"Hello," said her voice on the other end, slightly tinny, "you have reached the residence of Andrea Mitchell. I'm not here right now, but if you'd just leave your name and..."

I hung up. I wondered where she was; Andrea usually doesn't go out at night. No matter. An impulse was gnawing at me, and one that I was pretty sure I'd follow. I showered, got dressed again, laced up my boots, put on my coat and topped it off with the burgundy scarf I never go anywhere without. Come to think of it, it had been pretty cool for June. The weather had been pretty unseasonal. And the rain had only made things cooler. All the more reason for the coat. Before leaving, I grabbed my little shoulder sack and filled it with a flashlight, a notebook, and a pen. Never know when I night want to wright something down, or just make some observations. I might get an idea for a new article for the magazine.

Grabbed my keys, shut the door, and I was off into the night. Things were fresh like I had expected them to be, and it was strangely quiet outside. I headed toward the park. The night air was cool and crisp on my face, and it blew my scarf around in crazed loops. There was something rich about the color burgundy, something I really couldn't pinpoint but it drew me to it like a moth to a lightbulb.

For a while, all I heard was the rhythm of my boots scarping against the sidewalk, and all the other myriad sounds that were usually only noticable on a quiet night. It was never really quiet, I could hear water dripping, the wind rattling the leaves of the trees in the planters, a piece of paper blowing down the sidewalk. And finally I reached the park. My bench was still there, of course. Something reliable; I liked that. I sat down and stared at the sky. It was a miracle just being able to be on my bench; to be able to stare at the sky and breathe the air and hear the wind through the trees. This was what I loved about the human experience; the...experience. It was a grand thing. After a while of just staring at the sky in silence, I pulled out my supplies from my shoulder sack and began to write.

more later...