A guest is at the Mayor's
Manor today.
I'm not certain, but
there may be two of them.
Two guests.
There are definitely four feet;
I can tell as I make my way
downstairs to meet him (or them).
Yes, four feet moving in
perfect unison, I
hear.
Blingsight, for a moment, gives no help
to confirm or deny my suspicions.
Only my "Blindhearing" helps; If I can
call it that.
The guest, who has the voice of a
panting man asks, "What is that
you hold in your hand, man-boy?"
I write this all as it happens, as fast
I as can. I tell him about my journal.
Silence fills the room.
It's unsettling not to see the guest's
face in a flash; especially with his harsh
breathing.
The Mayor mumbles.
The guest mumbles back.
"Cole. Man-boy." The guest says, "My name is
Dr.Garth"
My blindsight works just then.
Standing in front of me is a brown dog with an eye-patch and a wide, slobbery jaw.
He holds his paw out for me to shake.
1076, Dey 8, 5th Hour
