Read Online The Cantor Dimension by Sharon Delarose - Free Book Online
Authors: Sharon Delarose
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exposed and explored. Brody read on, growing more fascinated but again, the entries took another bizarre turn.
Someone came at me suddenly. I faced him and he instantly disappeared inches before colliding with me. It happened so fast that I barely got a glimpse of him. I thought I saw a name sewn onto his pocket: Jerry? Jeremy? Jerome? Then the words: 'Get out of here!' I instantly returned to my point of origin.
I was at a TV security monitor watching different areas the way guards do. I flipped channels from an old bum flopped out on a park bench to a sauna room full of naked and near-naked girls. One girl was just about to enter and was peeling off her clothes. Someone chastised me for monitoring the undressing women. I shouldn't interact so I returned to my point of origin.
Brody was sorely disappointed that the entry ended and his mind was drifting more into the realm of girly magazines than Max's non-sensical notes. Oh Max, dammit! Why couldn't you give more detail? Just when it was starting to get good you revert back to the mumbo-jumbo. Damn you, Max! Heat surged through Brody's loins but Max was in trouble so Brody kept reading, shoving his lusty thoughts aside as best he could.
The entries were fascinating with their sexual enticements but they didn't explain Max's disappearance, unless of course Max was off somewhere partaking of the sensuous pleasures he was hinting at. Brody was becoming frustrated. He was about to shove the papers aside when he came across something interesting. It was a little closer to home than the previous entries.
Max described an event in which he was in Brody's living room. He recounted it as if he were actually there but Brody couldn't see him. He described Brody's actions in vivid detail: Brody drinking a root beer float, flexing his muscles in front of a mirror, and doodling bicycle tires on the pages of a Popular Mechanics magazine. He also mentioned Brody rehanging a picture that had fallen down off the wall.
Brody remembered that particular night in vivid detail. He remembered it because he'd had lunch with Max the following day and Max had been teasing him. "Why were you checking yourself out in front of the mirror last night? Is that what you do when no one's around? Flex your muscles and doodle bicycle tires?"
"You don't know what you're talking about! I don't flex my muscles in front of a mirror!"
"I know you were flexing your muscles last night, and I also know you were drinking a root beer float!"
"So what? You've seen me drink root beer lots of times. You're just a good guesser."
Max chuckled. "If you weren't flexing your muscles and doodling bicycle tires, why would you call me a good guesser?"
"You're full of shit!"
Brody had turned beet red and punched Max in the arm. At the time Brody figured that Max just knew him so well that he could easily figure out what Brody would do behind closed doors. A lucky guess, that's all. Still, it left him with an odd feeling. It wasn't like he did those things every night.
The most unsettling part was the mention of Brody rehanging the picture. Brody had never told Max about the picture, and Brody really had rehung a picture that had fallen that very day, something Max couldn't possibly have known about or even guessed at.
Brody read several more of Max's entries in which he described himself "visiting" Brody's and other places. Max always described what he "saw" in vivid detail. There was one entry where Max had spied on Brody's date with Melissa. Everything they had said and done was logged in Max's notebook with perfect accuracy right down to the argument they'd had over what to watch on TV.
Brody had never told Max about his date with Melissa. This invasion into Brody's most private moments angered him and he tried to reconcile this newfound version of Max as some sort of voyeur with the staid friend he'd always known.
No matter what angle he tried, he couldn't reconcile this new Max with his ideal of
Someone came at me suddenly. I faced him and he instantly disappeared inches before colliding with me. It happened so fast that I barely got a glimpse of him. I thought I saw a name sewn onto his pocket: Jerry? Jeremy? Jerome? Then the words: 'Get out of here!' I instantly returned to my point of origin.
I was at a TV security monitor watching different areas the way guards do. I flipped channels from an old bum flopped out on a park bench to a sauna room full of naked and near-naked girls. One girl was just about to enter and was peeling off her clothes. Someone chastised me for monitoring the undressing women. I shouldn't interact so I returned to my point of origin.
Brody was sorely disappointed that the entry ended and his mind was drifting more into the realm of girly magazines than Max's non-sensical notes. Oh Max, dammit! Why couldn't you give more detail? Just when it was starting to get good you revert back to the mumbo-jumbo. Damn you, Max! Heat surged through Brody's loins but Max was in trouble so Brody kept reading, shoving his lusty thoughts aside as best he could.
The entries were fascinating with their sexual enticements but they didn't explain Max's disappearance, unless of course Max was off somewhere partaking of the sensuous pleasures he was hinting at. Brody was becoming frustrated. He was about to shove the papers aside when he came across something interesting. It was a little closer to home than the previous entries.
Max described an event in which he was in Brody's living room. He recounted it as if he were actually there but Brody couldn't see him. He described Brody's actions in vivid detail: Brody drinking a root beer float, flexing his muscles in front of a mirror, and doodling bicycle tires on the pages of a Popular Mechanics magazine. He also mentioned Brody rehanging a picture that had fallen down off the wall.
Brody remembered that particular night in vivid detail. He remembered it because he'd had lunch with Max the following day and Max had been teasing him. "Why were you checking yourself out in front of the mirror last night? Is that what you do when no one's around? Flex your muscles and doodle bicycle tires?"
"You don't know what you're talking about! I don't flex my muscles in front of a mirror!"
"I know you were flexing your muscles last night, and I also know you were drinking a root beer float!"
"So what? You've seen me drink root beer lots of times. You're just a good guesser."
Max chuckled. "If you weren't flexing your muscles and doodling bicycle tires, why would you call me a good guesser?"
"You're full of shit!"
Brody had turned beet red and punched Max in the arm. At the time Brody figured that Max just knew him so well that he could easily figure out what Brody would do behind closed doors. A lucky guess, that's all. Still, it left him with an odd feeling. It wasn't like he did those things every night.
The most unsettling part was the mention of Brody rehanging the picture. Brody had never told Max about the picture, and Brody really had rehung a picture that had fallen that very day, something Max couldn't possibly have known about or even guessed at.
Brody read several more of Max's entries in which he described himself "visiting" Brody's and other places. Max always described what he "saw" in vivid detail. There was one entry where Max had spied on Brody's date with Melissa. Everything they had said and done was logged in Max's notebook with perfect accuracy right down to the argument they'd had over what to watch on TV.
Brody had never told Max about his date with Melissa. This invasion into Brody's most private moments angered him and he tried to reconcile this newfound version of Max as some sort of voyeur with the staid friend he'd always known.
No matter what angle he tried, he couldn't reconcile this new Max with his ideal of
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