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two crimestories
for them to think what
they wanted about me.
It could get complicated
with my students if there
was a rumor that I had
become a little eccentric.
But my primary worries
were actually tied to Sam.
How could you explain
to a physicist an invisible
sprite in human form?
Was Flann actually a
sprite? And damn it, what
exactly was a sprite??
I avoided Sam over the
next few days. I drove
to Edinburgh to have a
neurologist
thoroughly
check me out. I talked to
a psychiatrist, and then
to another psychiatrist. I
visited a priest, a shaman,
and a fortune teller. I
did everything I could
to figure out why I had
recently started seeing
someone who wasn’t
actually there. And how I
could get rid of him.
“Describe him in as much
detail as possible,” the
experts instructed.” I
described Flann from
his crumpled hat to the
heavy eyebrows in his
squarish face to his old-
fashioned suit to his well-
worn shoes. I showed
them his exact height - he
was actually pretty short.
I mimicked his accent, and
they asked if I had ever
known anyone like this.
Perhaps this could be a
projection of my father or
grandfather. The clothing
was strongly reminiscent
of the sixties, if not the
fifties. We never found
an explanation, though a
brain tumor and an array
of neurological illnesses
were finally ruled out.
I wasn’t sure if I was
supposed to be relieved
about this. Despite the fact