It was a hopeless situation. They were each desperately lonely, and bonded quickly by the absence of their significant others, during one of those twists in time when everything seems to be going so wrong that there's no possible way to untangle the web, but then all the knots seem to magically disappear because a couple of stolen moments make everything bearable for a brief period of time. And not just bearable, but flutter-tummied euphoric. The joy they experienced together, the empathy for each other's plight, the being together through each other's thick details, reaching out and holding hands in a time each of them was so alone and isolated; it was precious, if ethereal.

Zeph remembered when he took her to the place of his birth, an island on the dark blue sea, and they sat on the floor of the building with the broken columns tumbled by age and harsh ocean weather. There were so many stars, a gagillion bazillion doesn't even begin to do the number justice. There was no single unlit spot in the velvet midnight sky as seen by her eyes this night. They drank and drank, to the point where they were so slobbery drunk and slurring so badly they barely understood each other, and broke out laughing each time either made any attempt. He had been teaching her his native language and though she could write it nearly fluntly now, her tongue simply was incapable of the harsh gutteral noises strewn into nearly every word, at least it seemed that way to her. She certainly didn't speak it drunk, though he spoke their common language with ease, when he wasn't drinking, anyway.

He had wrapped her in his arms and she was enveloped in calm, though now completely surrounded by the whitecaps of a growing storm on the sea. He had whispered sweet nothings in her ear. He had brushed tendrils of her hair out of her eyes and run his fingers down her cheek. He'd held her when she cried, and in hinted-at promises she had allowed herself to imagine a better life. He'd held her all night long, resting his head in her nook. Oh, it was a life she doubted very much that she'd ever come to live, but playing with the idea of it, however romantically inclined it was, had been better than facing the circumstances of her realities. She had told him that if it was meant to be it would, indeed, be. He had said that in ways he loved her, and in ways, she loved him, too. He had wanted her, and indeed, she had wanted him. The rules were set against them; they both knew it. They bent them, but they hadn't broken them. It was nicer to pretend there weren't rules. Nicer to pretend they existed in their own space and time, that there was a brighter future, a night when stars would again light the sky, and a more perfect oppertunity borne of more fortunate circumstances would find them nestled together again.

He loved her that night, and she loved him. What they shared was never intended to cause injuries, because it was never intended to be shared with anyone else. It was just a night they took just for themselves, both selfishly and selflessly, and agreed it was just for pretend, just to escape, just for a moment. Innocent in its own twisted way; but you know, like Elphaba, Zeph wasn't really evil, just terribly misunderstood. She claimed it was all a game, an unreal moment, silliness, absurd even. Her ego would let her do nothing else. He heart would continue to beat, but it would mourn quietly for a long time to come. She remembered the way the moon had looked oval, and the way the sea water misetd her face in the breeze. She remembered the warmth and security she had felt, wrapped in his arms. She wondered about what could have been. She remembered he had told her, should their paths not cross again, he wanted her to know that she was his dream girl. That he loved everything about her; that he had what if'd the same possibilities that she had. It was a warm piece to hold on to, and for the moment, she did. Letting her eyelids slip closed, Zeph drifted off into a sea of dreams where the statues wore all wind-worn and the air smelled of salt.

Looking around her two bedroom apartment in Albany, OR, she wondered how she had managed to collect so many extra and unnecessary things in the short year she had resided there. All sorts of odds and ends that she didn't want to deal with. The old drivers seat from the jeep, which she had replaced because of it's broken mount, just before she had sold the jeep a few months earlier. Two large boxes of fabric from 1949 that she had accepted from a senior at the center and promised to make good use of. A box of ribbons in every color imaginable, that she would never use. Not four, but five boxes of canning jars that she had intended to can last years peaches in. Two extra cat carriers that she no longer needed. One of the twins had run away from her friends home that they had stayed in for a couple of months while she had saved money for the deposit on the apartment she was now packing up and leaving. She didn't even recall where the other carrier came from.

Now everywhere in her home, she saw these extra things, and more than ever knew this was not the way to do things. Not the way to keep it simple. When she had moved in a year ago, everything she owned had fit into a 6 X 10 storage unit. Now she'd be lucky if the things all fit into a 17 foot moving truck. A lot of her plants would not. The potted garden she had created in her back patio area would not likely be making another move with her. She hated giving them up, but the plants had already been mobile with her through three moves, some of them four, and she knew that they would use nearly 1/3 of her truck space. She picked carefully the ones she would take, and sent the rest three hours south with him, where she knew they would be well tended. Besides, maybe this next place would be *the* place, and she wouldn't need potted gardens that could be mobile, she'd be able to put things right in the dirt and just know in her heart she'd be there long enough to see them bloom. Maybe.

She'd accidentally ended up in Albany. Well accidentally in a purposful way. She knew from moment of arrival that it wasn't home, and she wouldn't stay. It wouldn't do for her to have her son have this be the place he remembered living out his high school years and making important decisions about his future in. There was no way that could happen. The place was not extraordinary in any way. Not terrible, but nothing good, nothing going for it. Nothing to spring eternal hope, drive for something better. She had a wanderlust, that's easy to peg, but it was more than that. It was a deep seated conviction that screamed--if this isn't right, do something, do anything, to change it. Keep trying different things and one day, you'll happen upon the right thing. You can't help but find it if you are constantly searching.

The packing had been miserable, it's always hard to know what to keep and what to toss. The cleaning requirements for moving out were two pages of detailed instructions that essentially sterilized and made new an ancient home. She doubted anyone else had ever done as complete a job as she did. It was exausting. On top of that, there was replacing her broken bedroom window, where a week earlier and in a tiff, her boyfriend had knocked the fan into the iron lamp on her desk, which had knocked over and broken the 3.5 X 4 foot pane of glass. And then there was the "professional" carpet cleaner she had hired as required by the move-out forms, who turned out to be a 17 year old kid who promptly added $50.00 to the quote she had been given the day earlier. By the time she discovered the bb hole through her son's bedroom window she was too tired to decide whom she thought had shot the offending ball of metal; she hated that she even had to wonder whether it had been her fifteen year old son, or her 29 year old boyfriend. So many ugly truths had to be faced if she had to question that. It would be something she would put off for another day. Or week. Or ever.

Finally, after a full week of packing, a run to the dump, and two to goodwill, and a two day trip to the storage building on her parents property with the moving truck, another day's drive back, followed by three days of solid scrubbing, she left Albany for the last time, claiming that she would not stop again in that town even if it was the nearest place to her and she had to pee her pants, she would drive by rather than stop there to so much as use a restroom.

It had been a rough move, and she was glad to be finally back to the one place she really considered home. Central Washington. Today she had three things on her mind, three things to get done. She would go get her son registered for tenth grade today. She would look at jobs and rental homes here. She would call and shut the utilities off at her old home. These three things she could face. Everything else would have to wait...

Haven't been blogging. Some of you have messaged, and I've been in a funk and put off replies. It is what it is. Life has been, well.... Life. Apologies aside, I hope you are all well.

"The story of her creation?" Kristle looked at her friend with a perplexed smile. "Why do you want to know about that?" she asked hesitantly.

"Well," Angel began, "We used to be such close friends. Now you are off in Norrath so much of the time... I feel like we've drifted apart, and I don't know anything about your new life. I don't even know how you met Jaden!"

Kristle, having often been chastised for the time she spent away from her friends and family, was prepared to defend herself. But Angel seemed genuinely interested. Maybe, just maybe, she actually was, and not just in demanding more of her time be spent doing things with her. It's not that Kristle wasn't interested in her family or friends, moreover, she simply hated having demands on her time be made by anyone, for any reason.

"Jaden," Kristle breathed his name aloud, and a dreamy smile washed over her face. Angel giggled girishly at her. She wanted to talk about Jaden, she always did. Her mind revolved around him regularly, and often thoughts of him filled her head so much so that she could barely concentrate on anything else. But to tell his story fairly, accurately, and to introduce him in away so as her audience would not be skewn, she knew she needed to talk about Zeph first.

"Remember that Christmas we were snowed in for weeks? Remember we could get down to the shopping center, but the passes out of town were treacherous and essentially socking the city in? What was that, three maybe four years ago?"

It had been, Kristle knew down to the day, three years and 6 months ago. For Kristle, discovering Norrath was akin to Lucy discovering Narnia; a much needed escape in a time of uncertainty and gloom. Unlike Lucy, though, Kristle had not gone in search of adventure. She had not gone in search of a fantasy world in which to reside, she had simply gone in search of a Christmas present for her husband.

By the time Christmas came around, her five year marriage was already showing signs of it's demise. She and her husband had been romantically involved for the five years prior to their marriage, as well. That Christmas they had already spent nearly ten years together. In that time they had grown apart. They had different wants and needs, and neither was too interested in bending to meet the other anymore. They didn't argue, they smiled kindly at each other, and they prepared dinner and washed dishes for each other, but their relationship was a hollow thing. Not a bad thing, but not a fulfilling thing. Not the thing either of them had hoped for or intended it to be.

That winter was particularly harsh. He had been laid off from his job six months earlier, and his unemployment checks barely helped to supplement Kristle's part-time wages. They were falling further and further into financial debt, not just with creditors, but with her parents, who were always willing to lend a hand or a dollar, as well. Her Dad came for Christmas that year, stayed with them for a week or so. He had come unprepared, and hauled Krystle along with him to do his last-minute gift shopping. Kristle, who typically shopped periodically throughout the year, whenever she noticed a trinket one of her friends or family members would adore, abhored Walmart as much as she hated the holiday shopping crowds.

That's how she had found herself stuck in a crowded isle of the electronics section, listenting to the screaming wants and desires of anxious children, who were already waiting for Santa, overdosed on the sugary goodies of the season. When her dad had handed her a computer video game, and mentioned he thought her husband would like it, she barely glanced at it as she tossed it in the cart and hastily crossed him off of the list. They were nearly done. Besides, he liked that kind of game, and she was no judge of that sort of thing. She didn't play many video games, and had found that she was a terrible judge of which would be good and which wouldn't. This would be fine. "Perfect!" she thought, as they shuffled through the crowded isles to the register.

The third day after Christmas she knew it had been a success. For three nights now, her husband had stayed awake long after she did, playing that game long into the wee hours of the night. She smiled happily at what a great gift she and her dad had chosen, and drifted off to sleep.

By the end of January she was pretty tired of never seeing her husband anymore, he never came to bed when she went anymore, and he barely acknowledged her when she spoke to him if he was playing that game. She was lucky to drag him off of the computer to eat even, and often he would stay at his desk to do so, claiming others were counting on him. Just the facts that she was working and going to school, and he was collecting unemployment and playing that damn game all the time made her resent him and the game both. For a marriage that had already lost its passion, this road was definately headed for rocky ground.

She had begun classes at the local university to prepare for enrolling in their Master's degree program. Fortunately, she was pretty immersed in her studies, and didn't really have a whole lot of time to be upset at his "abandonment" of her. She started complaining about his excessive gaming, and heard from a lot of people that Everquest was renowned for exactly that type of behavior. It was pretty common, actually, most people who knew of it had assured her. She didn't find it of much comfort.

February was more of the same, and she got to the point that she barely spoke with him--the man that lived in her house. The roommate that shared her livingroom glued to the computer monitor, and her bed by getting into it as she was getting out of it... At one point she had made a gigantic fuss about it, him not coming to bed, so for a few nights he made a show of doing so, coming in, lying down and pretending to sleep while she drifted off. Three times she awoke an hour later to find he had jumped ship and was back at the monitor. The next time he tried to come to bed when she went, she simply said, "Don't bother." And while he might have wanted to do the right thing, the game called him; Norrath's fingers beconed him, and and he followed.

By March, her quarter was over, and she had managed to fail Finite Mathmatics once again, leaving her desperately short the five required credits for admission to the Master's program. It was the day after classes let out, the 16th of March, that he made his final attempt to suggest that she try playing this game. Figuring it was likely the only possible path that their relationship might be repaired (and not realizing that they were long past that point) she hesitantly agreed. Besides, she thought, it's spring break, and it might be fun. We're broke anyway, what else am I gonna' do?

She had played a cleric in their D&D campaign for several years, and decided when she loaded up Everquest that it would be a good first choice, since she already knew the structure for what that character was expected to do. Listening to her favorite band playing Zephyr Wind in the background, in conjunction with her new Zephrine rose's first buds appearing, Zephrine, the cleric was born.

For a few weeks, her friendship with her husband had generally improved. They were playing the game together, and he was showing her tips and tricks he had come up with. There was a pretty steep learning curve, and there was something new to find out every day. Pretty soon the two of them had constructed her first set of armor, by tracking and killing particular creatures and combining the loot they drop in varius types of containers, forges and ovens and so forth. They were begining to get the low-level cleric/ranger duoing thing worked out. They were spending time together for the first time in ages.

That's about the time they were invited to join their first guild. He chose not to join right away, being a loner by nature. She accepted immediately, delighted at the oppertunity to make new friends and have more resources for learning to better play the game at her fingers. The guild was The Karmic Circle. It's mission to help new players learn what they needed to know to play the game. It's players were some of the friendliest and most helpful on the server. It's leader. It's leader was Jadenleaf, a ranger Zephrine would ultimately fall in love with. A man Kristle would eventually find much passion with.

"But how did he go from being a ranger named Jaden, to being the real life guy? How did you meet? How did you...?"

Kristle smiled a distant smile, her head tilted slightly to the side...

I saw an old friend recently,
...guess I wish I hadn't.
When we last parted ways he was well,
but now he is so away and lost;
yammering on like Boomhauer, yibbity-yak-yat-ya
he probably hadn't slept in days.
His room was littered with pepsi cans and pizza
boxes, but he was skinny as a rail.
In between his yammerings he made mention of having
been working too much to have time to pick up.
Working? Is that what we call it?...
Working our sinuses, loading our lungs, riding
waves that are too big for us.
Soon his cheeks will hollow and his eyes will
carry dark circles, and I don't want to be
there to see it.
He's just a baby, only twenty-one, but his world
is spinning, spinning, spinning, spun.
There are roommates strung-out on the sofa staring
at their phones, and the dog wants to be let out
of the bathroom he's been locked in and I do not
belong here.
I said good-bye, and went on my way.
So sad to lose a friend this way.