Unspeakable.

And it's hard to describe the sound of a family falling apart. The lighting through the window. The emptiness of the room. The feel of the carpet under sheltered soles. It was a movie. We were a movie. Apparently she really thought so (the mention of the ghost gave it away). That's comforting. That means our happy ending isn't so far away.

But the thing with movies is, I've lost my script. Forgotten the plot line. Misplaced my character within myself. So maybe, I'm screwing up the screenplay. Maybe the writers, the producers, the directors, and the make-up artists are all angry at me, for various reasons, including the fact that I refuse to wear that shade of blush on national television. Maybe they are considering firing me. Maybe they have been having meetings about me all this time. I wonder if that's why the donut boy doesn't get extra chocolate donut holes for me anymore. It's all beginning to make sense now. Perfect sense.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. Except that it's very sad that I realized that Derek on Life with Derek grew out his hair. And also, I want donut holes.