Charlize Remi - Episode 7: Personal Log Entry [Dr. Andrea Williams]

I was just now reviewing my previous log entries and couldn't help but elicit a small chuckle at myself. How things can change over such a short span of time.

I debated whether or not to write an entry today but shortly realised I do have a significant volume of thoughts requiring a place to call home. My hope is that today's entry achieves that, a home for my many thoughts.

It's Monday morning as I write this. Friday was my previous log entry. Upon reviewing my previous log, I can confirm much has occurred since those musings, almost all of it relating to Billie. I never before considered I'd become such a prolific writer of thoughts beyond research and academia.

Ah, Billie. She makes me feel as though I want to venture into the world of poetry, to use the written word in an attempt to capture the vast expanse of emotion that language alone could never articulate. It's a feeling unlike anything I have ever known.

I thought about sending her a text message last night. We have one another's numbers, of course, but aside from a few work-related messages, we've not communicated extensively outside of work. What would I say?

"Hello."

"I hope you are having a nice evening."

"I sincerely look forward to seeing you again tomorrow."

"I cannot stop thinking about you."

After wasting an inordinate amount of time watching the cursor blink slowly, I closed my phone and opted not to send her a message. When my phone later shrilled with a notification, I rushed to it, my heart beating with force against my ribcage, only to discover a marketing notification from a clothing store I'd purchased something from. I felt the hope that had risen so suddenly within me collapse into a hollow ache, one that seems to linger long after the evening had lost its light.

Well. I suppose I can no longer delay my primary purpose for writing this log today.

She is back. There. I said it.

Somehow, by some sick fortune, She has already managed to set her sights on Billie. How, in a city of almost 700,000 inhabitants, that could ever occur is beyond my comprehension. The world is small, it seems. Disgracefully small.

She would eat Billie alive if ever given the chance. And I will personally ensure She is never afforded the opportunity to sink her talons into Billie. At whatever cost.

Let me describe what happened.

I was walking down to my local cafe for my regular morning coffee (latte, of course. The very same as Billie so happens to drink) and I'm certain you can imagine my elated surprise at seeing Billie seated out the front. That delight was, unfortunately, rather short lived.

Seated across from Billie was someone I had hoped to never lays eyes upon again.

Her.

I stood there for a moment, unable to quite comprehend what I was seeing. Of all the people in this city, of all the cafes Billie might have chosen, there she was... sitting across from Her.

The utter rage I felt in that moment was unfamiliar to me. Or perhaps 'unfamiliar' is the wrong word. It was a feeling I suppose I dimly recognised, although one I had long since convinced myself I would never have reason to revisit.

I wish I could say I handled the situation with the composure I might reasonably expect of myself but, I fear, that would be a generous interpretation of events.

I approached their table with no consideration for what I might say. I recall looking at Her. I remember the satisfaction I felt when her expression changed as She saw me. And I recall telling Her to leave.

Even now, writing those words, I struggle to explain precisely what possessed me. I found myself standing there, acutely aware of Billie's presence beside me and the most peculiar desire to have Her disappear from that chair, as far away from Billie as is possible.

She left, without the showdown of epic proportions I was anticipating.

I had thought, foolishly, I suppose, that my greatest difficulty would be getting Her to leave. As it turns out, I was mistaken. Because there was Billie.

I cannot adequately describe what came over me. There was something in the way Billie looked at me, something so unbearably inviting, that I felt all remnants of restraint abandon me.

I wanted her closer.

An insufficient description of what I felt. I wanted to feel the warmth of her against me, to know the delicate weight of her hands against my skin. I searched her face for some indication of what she was thinking, some small assurance that the longing I felt was not mine alone. Before I realised what was happening, what I was doing, I felt the softness of her lips against mine and I remember wishing, with every fibre of my being, that time might be persuaded to stop, just long enough for me to commit every exquisite second to memory.

It was as though something immense had been set into motion within me. A universe, perhaps, unfolding from a single, infinitesimal point. All the light and matter of a thousand distant galaxies bursting into existence at once, expanding beyond the boundaries of everything I had previously understood.

An entire cosmos born in the space between one heartbeat and the next.

Or perhaps it was something closer to the extraordinary beginnings of life itself. That miraculous instant in which a single cell, possessing no comprehension of the magnificence it will one day become, begins to divide. One becoming two, then four, then countless others, each carrying within it the promise of something not yet imaged.

An entire existence unfolding from something impossibly small.

I have found myself utterly distracted ever since. My thoughts have developed an inconvenient habit of wandering. I also seem to have acquired an equally peculiar tendency to smile at... well, nothing. I caught myself doing so this morning while reviewing a research report. I had been staring at the same paragraph for almost ten minutes, absorbing precisely none of it.

I wonder if Billie has experienced the same difficulty?

In any case, I ought to return to this report. There is so much to be done today, although my attention has been drawn to the clock in my office on more occasions than I care to admit.

I imagine she'll be arriving soon.

Perhaps I still have time to get her a latte before she arrives.