“No, no.”

Fourth day.

“Montag, a funny thing. Heard tell this morning. Fireman in Seattle,

purposely set a Mechanical Hound to his own chemical complex and let it loose.

What kind of suicide would you call that?”

Five, six, seven days.

And, then, Clarisse was gone. He didn’t know what there was about the

afternoon, but it was not seeing her somewhere in the world. The lawn was

empty, the trees empty, the street empty, and while at first he did not even know

he missed her or was even looking for her, the fact was that by the time he reached

the subway, there were vague stirrings of dis-ease in him. Something was the

matter, his routine had been disturbed. A simple routine, true, established in a

short few days, and yet . . . ? He almost turned back to make the walk again, to

give her time to appear. He was certain if he tried the same route, everything

would work out fine. But it was late, and the arrival of his train put a stop to his

plan.

-Lexi

-Lexi