Now, 3 and 1/2 months after, I’m beginning to feel the effects of the actual invasion. I was numb with grief, before, or drowning. Now the paranoia is kicking in. Were we specifically targeted? Why? He was a musician, for the love of light! He never hurt a fly! He didn’t even have any abrasive political opinions – nothing.
This doesn’t make sense – but it does make for impressive nightmares.
Off topic: a bit of extra creepiness (this is beginning to feel as though I’m in a Dean R Koontz novel, at least I hope it’s Koontz and not Stephen King, that’s even worse):
Why was it so important to my sister-in-law to come and literally raid our house of all documents (accidentally including my children’s birth certs!), and all of her mother’s medical records, within less than 48 hours of Hubbs’ death?
Ok, I know, I wasn’t supposed to ever see that will. But why the medical records?
I told you: Paranoia! If I ever have the heart to work this whole thing into a novel, it will be a pretty wild one.
Did I jinx it with my short-stories?