Threw the package away.
That’s right: I never opened it, never knew what was in it, but you know what? I don’t care. I threw that damn thing away in a dumpster and walked away. My hands are clean.
Everything should go back to normal. I’m just a normal guy living a normal life, I didn’t want any of this excitement.
The fact that the guy at the cafe knew the title of my book still worries me. I can’t help feel like I’m being spied on. I changed all my passwords just to be safe. I’m working on a big piece for the Crier: once that gets accepted, I’ll splurge and buy a new computer to wipe the slate extra clean.
This one is starting to get slow anyway.
Ugh, I feel like I just woke up from one of those really long and tedious dreams, the ones that are too close to real life to offer any rest. I may need to take my vacation sooner rather than later. I could drive up to New Hampshire for the weekend. At least I would be out of the city.
Anyway, I guess I can go back to writing about normal things. The article I handed in did pretty well. It was on the looming homelessness crisis because of skyrocketing housing prices in the Boston area.
I thought it was pretty good. I did a lot of walking around and speaking to a number of homeless people in the downtown and Cambridge areas. Pick up a copy of the Crier wherever newspapers are sold to read it.
Alright, I think that’s enough for now. I’m going to get back to work on my latest article. I’ll tell you what it’s about once it’s published—until then, it’s a mystery.
I’m just glad everything is back to normal.