I struggled, at first, to wipe from my mind the dream that had visited me the night before, but my efforts proved fruitless. After a time I came to the conclusion that perhaps it would be therapeutic for me to write about the images that my subconscious mind had played out upon my closed eyelids, but even with this goal in mind, there were some parts of the dream that I could not convince myself to commit to paper. The results seemed barely adequate. As I scowled at the paper in frustration, I noticed that the sky had begun to lighten.

I was still a mess from the day before. I filled my wash basin in the bathroom off of the second floor hallway (which is technically my own to use – of the six apartments in the old house, mine is the only one with an unconnected bathroom. I do not mind.) and then returned to my rooms to clean myself and scrub the dirt from beneath my fingernails.

My bed sheets were smudged with dirt as well – I should not have put off washing up until the morning. Quickly, I penned a note to Henrietta asking her to launder them before my return. I had a long day ahead of me. My Aunt’s letter had requested my presence at once in Chenwick – clear on the other side of the island. If only I had been more expedient in composing my letter to her…

No, that’s not the case – the events of last night obsoleted so much of what I had written. Were it that I had been one to believe in destiny, I might have argued that events were moving forward at exactly the pace that fate had intended.

I stepped out the front door to find a man curled into a ball and sleeping on the front porch. I felt terrible – the night before I had mistaken him for a vagrant with malicious intent against my person, but in the dawn’s light I was able to recognize that this individual was someone with whom I was well acquainted: Jerry Siege. Not necessarily a friend, but at the very least a partner in business.

I roused him from his slumber; he stank of urine and sweat. His dark hair was patchy and unkempt and his clothes were rumpled. He looked up at me with a hangover-induced confusion, and it was in that moment that my brain made the connection regarding why Jerry had shown up at my home on this day in particular.

He was to be my escort.