June 19, 2018
Well Journal, for the first time in my life I feel a lazy ease. I have settled into the lodging of Shelley’s house. She works as a waitress not far from where she lives in a coffee shop. Being introduced to coffee was most… interesting. I could not help but fall in love with it. So for the past couple of days I have been coming back to my table in the back corner of the shop and ordering a coffee. I sit here and watch the way that these people act. I still am wary of interacting with another human being. But Shelley seems to be the only difference. I watch her serve customers and she is really good at what she does. On her breaks she sits here and talks with me. She of course does not know a lot about me. And her questions are such that even I can’t answer them sometimes. What my hobbies are and what are my favorite colors and where do I work come up as she tries to understand me. Talking with her feels almost second nature to me. I don’t recall ever seeing her before I was imprisoned, but I feel I know her. This morning I asked her, “Do I know you from somewhere? It just seems I know you already.” She said that she would tell me that answer later because she needed to get back to work. I will leave it alone until she talks about it again. Although I could not help but feel sadness in the words she spoke. I still keep that sack I liberated from my prison and I intend to thoroughly clean the gun I used to kill all of those men. I also need to take stock on my supplies and the amount of ammunition I can carry. It’s funny though. When one human kills another human, they feel a pang of guilt and feel sick. But I on the other hand felt liberated. Does this make me different from other people? Or am I just the same as another human being in my situation? This coffee is bitter. I’ll ask Shelley if that can be fixed or not. I have yet to look at myself in a mirror… maybe I want to forget who I am. Maybe I don’t want to look at what I have become. What was I to begin with? I can’t even remember that. But I can tell you about Shelley at least. She is a small 27 year old girl. She has brown hair about the length past her shoulders. She has fair skin white skin and dark blue eyes. To look into them is like looking at the sky when you know that rain is coming. I remember that feeling because as I ran from my prison, it rained and poured onto my body. She is fairly fit and in shape. To be honest Journal, she is quite attractive and catching to the eye. But something tells me that this attractive woman is off limits. She looks like one of those “taken” women. At least that is the term that the men in The Brown Bean use to describe her. Besides, I do not see any interest of that sort in her, despite lodging with her in her apartment. She is much too nice for me to think such things of her. She has been so kind. The café itself is a small place. So conversations are not that hard to pick up and hear from afar. Well I seem to have finished my coffee. I will leave you now Journal. You have been patient and understanding of me. I am grateful to you more than I can describe. I owe you not only my life, but my sanity. Maybe someday I will be able to repay you for your patience with me. I will go and get another cup of coffee. Luckily I stole the money that the guards had on them from the prison. At least I thought about that when I did. Until we speak again Journal.