Far as I can see, we mostly exist as *ideas* in each other’s heads. The way *you* see me. The way my *boss* sees me. The way the *waitress* at Lindy’s sees me. Skins on an *onion*, right? Except that’s all there is to us. The *skins*.

I was born on a Thursday, hence the name. My brother was born on a Monday and they called him Anton–go figure. My mother was called Wednesday, but was born on a Sunday–I don’t know why–and my father had no name at all–his identity and existence had been scrubbed by the ChronoGuard after he went rogue. To all intents and purposes he didn’t exist at all. It didn’t matter. He was always Dad to me…

It’s funny. No matter how hard you try, you can’t close your heart forever. And the minute you open it up, you never know what’s going to come in. But when it does, you just have to go for it! Because if you don’t, there’s not point in being here.