The words flow passed his eyes, unfocused, tired, red eyes. Somewhere in an unconscious layer, he became aware that she was online again, her words, or words like hers, flitted across the screen, teasing him to pay attention. Really, she didn’t care if he noticed or not, wasn’t speaking to him at all, in fact, would be surprised he was listening. How had she ended up on his radar? what signals had he sent that reflected back to inform him of his surroundings that had illuminated her? the shape of her, the lusciousness of those syllables and run-on sentences, a figure in the dark forest, a whisper in the cacophony of voices out of the wilderness, but a lighthouse to him, warning: here there be rocks upon which ye shall surely be corrupted and lose your soul.