Day 10

I had done well keeping mostly clear from dread. Yet Dread sneaks in without your knowing, while you're in the other room on the telephone, say, and when you come back to the den he turns around in your swivel chair with a stab of dramatic violins. There he sits, petting your cat. Your cat snuggles down in Dread's lap. "Missed me?" he says. Dread can say things like that. His scenes are driven by electric charge, as opposed to great writing.

I think Dread had already let himself into the habitat, probably days ago, but it was only the evening before last that he walked in from the kitchen and asked if I wanted the last few bites of ice cream, so long as he had the carton out. Usually I can get him to go after a few hours. I tell him all the things I know about trains until the boredom aggravates him into leaving. But he stayed the night, and most of yesterday. I haven't seen him today, but these potato chip crumbs aren't dropping themselves on the floor. He's been disinclined to leave. I'd say that's because he's made himself unwelcome elsewhere, but I expect he stays most anywhere he likes these days.

When you're in isolation, Dread knows you'll be home. He doesn't need to idle his Camaro on the street, trying to catch your blinds swaying. He knows you're in there.