Desmond and the Limbo That Lies Between.

I can feel myself snatching desperately at the scraps of time I have left... Desperately trying to prolong my time in the limbo that lies between Post-Holiday and School.

It's hard to give that time up. It's as if I've been delivered a package that I'm reluctant to receive. And now, if I acknowledge receipt, then the transaction is complete. Then... then, I would have left the Lesser-comfort of Limbo, and crossed into the Non-comfort of School.

And so I refuse to give my signature. "My pen has run out of ink," I'll say.
"How convenient," you'll say.

And then Post(Holiday)man will attempt to lend me a pen, and I will refuse even that.

Never accept gifts from Strangers.