You’re not crazy,’ Michelle reassured, grabbing Brody’s hand and rubbing circles in his palm. ‘You’re just…’ she shrugged, ‘you.’ Br...dy looked down at his hand and watched Michelle sweetly offering comfort to him, when he was the one who started this whole thing. She was too nice. ‘I think it hurt,’ Brody said, trying to explain what had happened. ‘I felt hurt that you didn’t seem to like me as much as I like you, and that you maybe weren’t into this as much as I am. So I got mad. I’m sorry.’. He set numerous blank pages before him, pages that he felt needed to be filled before the candle burned its last. Opening the drawer, he placed at his left the instruments of his art: an inkwell and a quill, but in the far corner of the drawer was the pistol that had served him well in war and perhaps would find some grand use again. Hunching over his papers he feverishly brought pen to ink and began his inscriptions as zealous as a medieval monk pondering the works of Aristotle. Before long,. More

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