Changes

[fredless]

[Someone's standing on her bed again, navigating a mattress and piled blankets to chose a book from the shelf that lines the length of her ceiling.

...then suddenly the book is chosen for her. And it isn't string theory.

Fred scrambles back down to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers tracing over the pages of a journal. Page after page after page. Every last one of them blank. Something presses against her, from the inside out. She moves to the window, briefly glancing outside of it. Everything seems just the same, but she can't seem to fully push back memories of Libet and the auditorium at the heart of it]

Is everybody alright?

[The words seems impossibly dark and large against the blank expanse of the page]

Is everybody...there?

Comments

[fredless]

I'll definitely be watching things carefully.

[It occurs to Fred they haven't spoken in a while]

How are you Peter?

[spongetastic]

I'm okay. How about you, Fred?

[fredless]

[She's pleased to hear that. His last loss hadn't been easy]

Me? I'm...[She reminds herself this isn't about now. Or the journals. And then the answer is easy] I'm good. I'm really good, actually.

[spongetastic]

I'm glad to hear it.

[fredless]

I went and allowed myself to fall a little bit in love with Paris, castle manipulation or not.

[spongetastic]

Me too. Having a normal life with Phoebe was nice.

[fredless]

You and Phoebe were living together? That's lovely, Peter.

[spongetastic]

We still are. My room's a lot less empty now.

[fredless]

I'm happy for you. I really, really like Phoebe. Not that it matters, of course.

[spongetastic]

I'm glad you like her. I'd hate it if my friends didn't get along with my girlfriend.

[fredless]

Well, I really don't think there's anything to worry about there.

[spongetastic]

Good to know.