January 23
“I wasn’t in one,” I say, pushing her back gently. “But I heard one. This morning. Right outside the window. You didn’t hear it?”
She blinks at me. “No,” she says. “I’m pretty sure I would have remembered a car crash. When did it happen?”
“Around six,” I say. “Six-thirty.”
“I was asleep ’till eight,” she says, “and you were gone when I got up. I didn’t hear anything.”
“Argh, today has just been so weird,” I say. “First, it was a crash that I guess didn’t happen, then Katie at the Beanery is married but she’s not, and now your computer is acting weird!”
“How’d you know it was acting weird?” Kyle asks, turning to the laptop.
“The date kept changing,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Weird,” she says, looking closer. “I didn’t think a bad install of IE could do that. I was just getting script errors every five seconds.”
Oh my God. She didn’t notice it. She really didn’t see the date change. Either I’m going crazy, or there’s something very screwy going on around me. Given the fact that I did fairly well in the pop exam today, I don’t think I’m going crazy. But isn’t it one of those things where if you say you’re not crazy, you probably are, but if you say you might be crazy, that proves you’re probably not? I should lean towards crazy, then, just because the odds are better. “Kyle,” I say, “what would you say if I told you I thought I was going nuts?”
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