Walking

Unable to think, I left the library early to take a walk. I decided Vanessa's references were all so vague no one would tie them to me directly. Even the apparent flood of pink sweaters must have been a figment of my imagination. Some were more red or orange than pink anyway. I think Vanessa was walking a delicate line between what she could perceive of my fantasies and reality; obvious to me, indecipherable to others. Example: My love poem for lingonberry jam resulted in our semi-public soiree at IKEA which did involve jam (of an unspecified variety) as well as leather furniture which I had also lauded...In itself, innocuous; various repeated references over months, obvious.

From reading her stories, someone determined to discover my identity could put together the pieces, but they would have to compare the dates...first looking at my entry and then hers. It was indeed a puzzle, but one you would have to deliberately look for. As long as I continued my complete avoidance strategy I figured I was OK. After all, I could prove I wasn't at IKEA that day (although I was off-campus).

The real question was...had she told anyone? Her blog insisted that she hadn't...

Don't bother asking who he is my lovelies. I won't tell. Never. It would be over if I did, and you know I can't let that happen. You are too anxious to hear what I have in store for Magnus next.

But could I trust someone living in this contrived dreamworld? How could I be sure she hadn't told anyone...even one person?

Well, it was apparent that she really did enjoy this game and had a lot of time invested, so she did have incentive for maintaining secrecy. If it got around campus that I was a subject of her sex blog, I would be rather uncomfortable.

I finally got back from my walk and sure enough, the shameless sounds of barbarian fornication through my dorm room door. (What kind of world had I entered?) I went to the computer lab to check what evil Vanessa had come up with...