I don't know where the time goes. Today's Sunday I know because I can see through my window the people going into the church across the street.
I think I laid in bed all week but I remember Mrs. Mooney bringing me food a few times and asking if I was sick.
What am I going to do with myself? I can't just hang around here all alone and look out the window.
I've got to get hold of myself. I keep saying over and over that I've got to do something
but then I forget or maybe it's just easier not to do what I say I'm going to do.
I still have some books from the library but a lot of them are too hard for me.
I read a lot of mystery stories now and books about kings and queens from old times.
I read a book about a man who thought he was a knight and went out on an old horse with his friend.
But no matter what he did he always ended up getting beaten and hurt.
Like when he thought the windmills were dragons. At first I thought it was a silly book
because if he wasn't crazy he could see that windmills weren't dragons and there is no such thing as sorcerers and enchanted castles
but then I remembered that there was something else it was all supposed to mean—something the story didn't say but only hinted at.
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