Solitude

I typed the last post in the wee hours of the morning. I have been thinking about it and it is scary. I read a story once about a man named Roquentin and that is what is frightening. I look in the mirror and see him looking back. At least I don't think the mirror is conspiring against me. Where was the memory of that story stored? Maybe Ericka can discover a way to filter such pop-up memories.