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:: for we don't realize our faith is our prize ::

The Third (pages made of days of open hand)

I'm more than a little worried these days. There's something in the air, a tangible change, something taut and stretched like a bowstring, only I don't know what it is, or how to slacken the thread. It shouldn't probably concern me as much as it does, but...

Dean's left again, and he wouldn't tell me where or how long he would be gone. Sam? Katie? Do you know something I don't? John?

The point of writing in this should be to become less anxious, but I don't seem to be accomplishing that well...
I think I should write in this more, since I have it and getting it would turn out to be kind of a waste if I didn't. But Dean's been using the computer more often lately, so I haven't been as much.

Thank you to everyone, belatedly, for a great birthday.

The house is quiet now, which seems strange for a Saturday. Dean's holed up in his room, I think he said he was reading. I don't know where Katie is right now.

Sam, you're doing alright, aren't you? I'm checking, since I haven't spoken to you in a few days. (Was it you that Dean was on the phone to last night? I thought I heard him talking to someone, late... I couldn't sleep, so I heard from the hall.)

I think that's all I can think to say right now. In any case, I hope everyone's having, if not good, then a decent day.

The First (testing boundaries)


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