INFATUATION PREDICATION
Chapter… (For the sake of lessened perplexity lets call it) 5

(But really I'm just trying to break my no update habit.. It's like a paragraph)

I can't pretend that I wasn't at all freaked out by this Phil Diffy's behavior. It was unnatural this odd endearing terminology, complete loss of identity, outdated current event paper, AND really just the general way he presented himself. (Kissing my hand? For the love of Christmas cookies who does that these days?), I constantly found myself pinching a flap of skin, to make sure I hadn't stumbled down some rabbit hole, into a twisted-modern-day-Jane-Austen-Wannabe Novel

It was bazaar to say the least. Still… in the same aspect it was definitely intriguing (and flattering!) I'd like to say that the mistaken identity as an angel wasn't going to my head, but in actuality I've already reserved a pair of sparkling wings on Craig's list.
Shortly after the explanation of his whereabouts, and the introduction he again faded back out. After about an hour I began to notice an unusual stench lingering in the poorly lit, under decorated room. Finally it occurred to me that I hadn't left the hospital in the past three days., My usual floral scent had turned a bit sour, and though the thought of seeing what I've turned into scared the living daylight out of me: I stumbled into the cramped bathroom. I gave myself a dissatisfied once over in the mirror above the sink. My clothes were wrinkled beyond recognition, my make-up had long sense worn off, and my hair was holding enough grease to fry turkeys for all of China…and Japan. I'd sell my future first born for a shower, and change in wardrobe. Well probably not, but i wouldn't trust myself in the situation. I toyed with the idea of leaving, but the thought that he would wake up alone left me with a guilty pain in the pit of my stomach. He didn't know anyone else, and social services hadn't had any luck tracking down relatives. I glanced back up to the mirror... somehow my pejorative hygienic state seemed crueler than leaving him solo for a few hours. I scribbled down an explanation setting it in the palm of his hand, and fled the scene in search of a long overdue bar of soap.