The Importance of Time

The interruption pad was in, I could feel it. A feeling of distance began to insert itself between the boy and me. This immersion had not been tightly time confined within the usual continuous one-hour window,. Rather, I had started at 13, then leapt backward into a non-contiguous time interval some seven years earlier - hence six there at the end, six years old. So that's good, right? Mrs. Dwyer said to Horace. Yes and no, said Horace pulling a screwdriver from his back pocket. He had then uncapped my promen and shone his little flashlight down into it. The house became a rigid, squarish cloak around my shoulders