July Passed

"Which world do you choose to believe in? Which me do you believe in?" She sank in and rubbed the cold edge of the hairpin. He thought of the fine fuzz on the back of the neck when the young lady stood under the cloister watching the rain on a rainy day in the Republic of China - those were the details he saw through her eyes during his possession. If this kind of touch can be faked, what else is there to believe? "You are all treating me as a fool." He suddenly smiled, but his eyes were filled with desolation. "The school doctor's diagnosis, your parents' sympathy, your 'truth' - everyone is telling me in different ways: I am crazy, I am delusional." He held the hairpin tightly, the butterfly wings almost embedded in his palm: "Then I will go crazy."