I have an impressive imagination. I put it to great use to manifest the most majestic fantastical realities for people. Limping Lenny can now leap castle walls, the Bristeltoe orphanage is kept by talking woodland creatures - now placing kids in homes more effectively than ever before. But this wonderful life has quickly become a nightmare when I recently discovered my blessings to the kindest people in Europe were curses all along.

No imagination is more visceral and rife with divergent outcomes as one plagued by fear. Just imagine something brushing your hand in a dark room… what twisted horror could it have been if the only good thing it could have been is impossible.

This is my state. Every leap Lenny takes with his new leg breaks an orphan’s leg. For each Bristletoe orphan housed, a child close to former patients of mine have fallen mute. I cannot bear to uncover which other cruelties I have haphazardly imposed by borrowing fortunes under the guise of “blessings.” I have helped so many people I don’t want to know!

I tremble as this reality besets me. Suddenly this study filled with mail could be incalculable records of bad, worse, and horrid news. My blood has stopped but my heart is racing. I will need to rectify this somehow. My family can be affected; I haven’t seen them in three fortnights. I am frozen and have no remedy to their predicament nor mine.

A bird hits my windowpane.