Wordcount 13569

The house is a mess. Flylady wouldn't be proud of me. My hotspots are on fire. My sink isn't shiny. My laundry is getting wrinkled in the dryer - the laundry that made it to the washing machine, that is. Never mind the overflowing washbasket. The ironing board is piled high. The spiders have taken over the corners of the house again. I can't even find the broom to sweep. Mind you, I didn't look very hard.

I've managed to make the bed and load the dishwasher. There is food in the fridge. But I can't for the life of me think what happened to all that chocolate I bought on special, "2 stuk naar keuze 99c" of which I bought a good deal more than 2 stuk.

It doesn't matter. I've added 7,500 words to my novel in just two days.

Today's excerpt:

There had to be a simple, rational explanation for being able to reach out and touch someone in that way, to find out if they were real, alive and present.
It had been a very simple communication, granted. Probably like the very first telephone call. In fact, probably earlier than that. Alexander Graham Bell had been trying to build a telegraph line that would transmit multiple messages at the same time when he realised that you could transmit sound.
How could she build on that simple communication to talk to T, without wires, without even knowing her wireless telephone number or whatever you wanted to call it.
Had T heard her? Had Mark heard her? Well, heard was not the right word, really. Felt was more like it. She had definitely felt them. Not as distinctly as if they were in the same room, granted.
Or was she just developing an over-active imagination?
There was an easy way to find out.
She called Mark.
"Hi Mark." Suddenly she felt foolish. How was she going to explain this. It made a lot of sense to her, but it would certainly sound like gibberish to him.
"Hello Greer." He did have a lovely, mellow, telephone voice. His tones stroked her silkily with a taste of chocolate and honey. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Hi Mark."
"Yes?"
"This is Greer."
"Yes, hello Greer." His tone was less silky now. He sounded a bit irritated, or was it bewildered? She didn't blame him.
"I had an idea, but it sounds too silly now that I have you on the phone."
"Yes?"
"Do you think people can talk without telephones? Not face to face, but over a distance. A long distance."
A long, long silence stretched between them.
"Mark, are you still there?"
"Yes, I'm still here."
"If I talked to you without a telephone, like now, would you hear me?"
"I already did. Is that why you phoned?"
"What did you hear?"
Another long silence.
"Mark?"
"I'm here."
"What did you hear? Please tell me."
A pause, and then he continued. "It wasn't so much hearing. It was more like a feeling. And she was there too, wasn't she? You've found her, haven't you?"
"Not exactly. But I'm working on it. I need time."
"Yes. You need time." His voice sounded very flat, as though he was trying to keep it under control. All the silkiness and chocolate and honey was gone now. "I'll see what I can do."
"Umm..."Greer hesitated.
"Yes?"
"Do you remember exactly when I spoke to you?" She had to be sure that his imagination wasn't overactive too.
"It was yesterday sometime. I didn't make a note of the time, I was... distracted."
Yes! It had worked!
"OK. Thanks Mark. Bye."
She hung up.