Adam, the lines you posted really had me going. The atmosphere of it all felt muted and moving in slow motion. The feeling you describe about missing your characters is classic. Mourning your characters, too.
I agree, Barbara. This muddy feeling inside really has a big part in the weather. My head still feels like pudding between the ears, but I'm learning to work through it. Listening to a Cassandra Wilson CD has a very theraputic effect. Here's something that came up yesterday. It does't fit anywhere yet, just a word-picture:
The kid was probably fourteen or fifteen. It wasn't clear right off what he was trying to do, but Stewart saw soon enough that he was trying to find a comfortable position on the couch. The kid leaned back, pulled his feet up on the burgundy leather. At one point, he slid off, bumoing the coffee table as he did so.
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