June 18

Well, my dear horror-diary-maybe I shouldn't call you that; hopefully I'll have some non-horror things to write about soon. Today was just like any other day, writing up plenty of obituaries...is it just me or are people dying more than they used to? Actually, here's the problem: that the editor used to toss together an obituary whenever it was needed but now I have that entire job with no help. And people apparently love my "gift". So they would rather send their obituary-request to me instead of any other paper. Good for my job, bad for my sanity. Anyway, I need to get my mind off that. Grrr, that's why I have you! So I have something else to think about!!

I've been reading my last post and...well, I'll tell you about Rob now.

Honestly, I don't even know who he is. I go walking at night to try and distract myself from my work...about nine o'clock every night. Sometimes I saw this guy walking down the street but all we would do is nod, say "hello", and keep walking. After about two weeks of doing that every night, I decided that it was time to say more than "hello". After screwing up my courage, I went on my walk but he wasn't walking that night. The next day was especially excrutiating at work and I went walking for two hours, around and around the block. When I was nearing the end of my third trip around the block, Rob came out of his door.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," I replied with a small smile. I remembered my resolution from the previous night to say more than that so I opened my mouth to speak but he beat me to it.

"This is a wonderful place to walk, isn't it?"

I nodded, "Indeed it is."

"Do you work at the newspaper office? I've seen you walk in there every day...I work across the street at the grocer's."

"Oh, yeah, I work there. That grocery is really cute. It has some very interesting little items that one can't find elsewhere." Anything to keep the conversation going, I thought to myself.

"Yeah, I'm one of the few full-time employees. The 'little interesting things' is what keeps us in business." He paused for a second then continued, "What do you do at the newspaper office?"

"I write columns." Why do you want to know, I asked him in my head. My face must have been telling of my mistrust because he said,

"Oh, I've always thought that writing is one of the most amazing jobs a person could have."

Phone just rang. It's my mother. She'll probably keep me up till I'm tired enough to fall asleep. Good-night, Diary.