Success!

I am proud to report some success in my endeavors. While it is not perfect, I have been able to infiltrate a group of females. The affect this success will have on my investigations cannot be measured. The best part is that they chose me, instead of my seeking them out.

Voices murmured in the air. Plates clanked, the smell of burnt grease floated like invisible smoke. The words on the glaring white page in front of me were a blur of grey, indecipherable lines. The restaurant glowed with light, catching people outside and through the glass window with its warmth. Despite all the light, a darkness haunted the area around my mind, a sea of dread suffocating me. They were all staring at me. I could feel their gazes beating down on me, needles of judgment. They were all laughing. They were thinking "Fatso" and "Failure", gaping at me in horror. They were the enemy. Everyone in the restaurant was watching me, even people on the sidewalks peeked at me with sidelong glances. I didn't belong. I didn't want to belong. Suddenly, it came back. I could hear it again. The sound of a belt whispering, and I knew he was coming again. The snap as the belt clapped against itself, I could see him through the white of the page. I shut the book with a thump, and was about to leave when I felt a soft hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, I saw you reading that book. Haven't met many college students who like feminist books. You know, you could join us at our table. I was also sort of wondering, are you ok?"

I held my breath to catch my hyperventalation, then let go with a sigh. I grabbed the chair and turned toward the woman, and instantly though I was looking at my mother. The thought fadded as I realized they looked nothing alike, but the she was in her fifties. Frazzled black-brown hair and a thin nose, she had a gentle smile on her face. Over her should, a group of five women her age and older sat surrounding a round table, waving at me. I immediately recognized the opportunity to improve my research.

As it turned out, they were holding a book club meeting. I never liked books, more prefering the glare of a computer screen, with the internet's flying facts. They seemed nice enough, but that's how everyone seems before you get to know them. Strangely enough, they were accepting, something I never expected from non-Geeks. Perhaps it is an attribute age develops. But in any case, I've run out of room in this update.

So, look for an update next time to find out what I learned.

Ichabod Worthington