Look, I promised I would write about Dianne, right? 

I don't want to at this very second. 

Now, now; don't you start with the whole "ripping your fur out and screeching like a monkey covered in kerosene with fleas that have suddenly combusted in open air" thing.

Hold on to your sanity, love. You don't want to end up like me.

Right now, I'm going to give you a briefing on what happened yesterday night when I checked up on Cody, and then I'll satiate your thirsts to meet Dianne (I'll do it...tomorrow). I'm going to repeat, for your reference: I AM NOT IN LOVE. I'm not saying this because anyone asked, but because assumption is in human nature. 

My description of her on the first page wasn't romantic, as I told you. I simply must do her brilliance justice. Mostly because she might end up reading this one day (not that I'd let her). And I value my life. 

Alright, I bet you've had enough of my introductions, and so I'll write what happened with Cody in the most brief way possible. Feast your eyes, love.

I entered through the window to the left of the door of the orphanage, as I have become more than adept at sneaking into places over 4 years, and found myself in the entrance hall of the orphanage. I know it well, but I'll describe it here. 

The wallpaper was maroon, with black fleurs-de-lis  scattered on the paper here and there. The wallpaper peeled at the edges, mostly around the bottom and the top of the wall, where it met floor and ceiling. The floorboards were a dark sort of wood that I couldn't quite place, that splintered in the most revolting way. Of course, one had to wear shoes to avoid their feet being impaled. The ceiling was "popcorn" style, but probably best known to you as stucco ceiling. There were two flimsy oak doors to either side of the hall, with ugly, rusted, broken knobs that squeaked when turned. Cruella de Vil made certain they made noise, so she would know when anyone moved through the house. The door to the left led into a living room, and the one to the right into a kitchen. Directly in front of whoever stood at the entrance door, in the middle of the hallways that continued to expand beyond it, was a creaky, splintery old thing that was considered a staircase. Light streamed into the hallway from the two windows to either side of the door. Now, that's all there is to say about the entrance hall. Moving on.

I listened for a bit, to see where Cody would be in the house. I used the advanced system of: wait for him to swear in five different languages. 

He did after a few minutes, and by the frequency of sound, he was in the room we used to share on the third floor. I started up the stairs, climbing to the third floor. When I stood in the open threshold of our old room, a rueful smile curled my lips. The place was a mess as usual. The robotic thing Cody was working on lay mostly disassembled on the floor. He seemed to be making a highly-functional photographic apparatus, which seemed, by the images, to do X-ray, infrared, visual, and...invisible. Some of the notes tacked to the board over his desk had the words: 

INVISIBLE 

FORMULA

SPIRITS

MY FAULT

*JINX* (My name was there, but I won't give it to you)

DIFFICULT

MALFUNCTION

WHY 

MUST KNOW

Yes, Cody was losing his mind over the simple concept of being invisible. At first, I didn't know why he wasn't trying to re-create the potion he had made.

Then, a year or so ago, I saw a note on the board that read:I've tried countless times, but it never works. I've run out of miracles. The best thing to do now is figure out why I could see him, and if anyone else can. I hope not.

In my logic, he shouldn't have the right to criticize me for sticking around to protect him, when he was obsessing over protecting me. Actually, he probably wasn't obsessing. He was a perfectionist, and he wasn't even losing sleep over this. So, Cody was absolutely fine. But his note, the one I could see all of, worried me. Still does.

But going back to my visit: his phone interrupted and ended the visit, telling him that he was going to be late for track. He had fallen asleep with his head on the desk. But because he was now awake, I ran like that monkey covered in kerosene that I joked about earlier: down the stairs and out the window, and didn't stop running until I found a person from Dianne's building who made daily trips to the orphanage area getting into a taxi. I slid into the backseat with them, and saw Cody sprint for his life through the rearview mirror, swearing in multiple languages vividly. 

And so, I now dust off my hands and give a satisfied nod at what I've written today. Tomorrow, I will talk about Dianne. This time, I promise so truly that I will engage in hemoptysis from my sin if I dare to break this promise.

©Nightingale