The light in Igraine’s eyes gave away her private enjoyment of the new information that I was at one time, a long time ago, married. She couldn’t stop smiling while she entered Dolly’s contact info into her phone. It was as if her mind was celebrating, but her smile made it clear that the party was invite only.

Her innocent gesture tugged at my doubts. I was uncomfortable sending anyone to Dolly for help, especially someone who came to me looking for assistance. But more than that, I was bothered with the realization that Dolly could be helpful, at all.

Dolly’s career choice was weirder than my own. But I get it. Becoming a post-paranormal life consultant was her way of getting back at me after I dragged her so far into this life that there was no escape. Before she met me, she hadn’t seen anything paranormal, and she just wanted to go back to the way things were when the world made sense to her. The only successful step she made on that journey was leaving me. She couldn’t figure out that next step, so she decided to dedicate her life to help others return to what society considered everyday life, in hopes of one day finding it for herself.

I told myself one more time that it made sense to volunteer Dolly’s information, but that didn’t straighten out any of the knots my gut had twisted into.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

It isn’t right that the world rejects what people have experienced. On some level, the world needs to change, but that’s not going to happen on its own. I’m not going to put that burden on Igraine. She can figure it out herself if she’s so inclined.

I wished her luck and followed her out of the office on my mission to find a bucket to catch the water that was stubborn enough to continue dripping. Igraine didn’t waste time and dialed Dolly while we walked down the hallway.

The volume on her phone was set to obnoxious, and it was possible Igraine had put it on speaker in order to poke fun at me. I stopped at the maintenance closet by the staircase and waved good-bye.

If the day went well for Igraine, we might never cross paths again. While I presumed that Avalon had not survived her ordeal, I had not given up on finding a witness who could explain what had happened. If Dolly could successfully readjust Igraine, then she’d never have that closure if I uncovered the truth.

But there were no guarantees that I’d uncover anything either. I couldn’t ask her to hold out for something that may never come.

Up from the stairwell, I could hear Dolly’s overworked southern drawl, “Who did you say referred me?”

The voice of my ex put a steel rod in my spine. I reconsidered my immediate need for a bucket. The pot from my coffee maker could do just fine, even if it meant I couldn’t brew any for a while.

The rest of the story is all second-hand, but most of it checked out when I ran it by witnesses and the Butcher. The parts of the story that couldn’t be confirmed are second only to the ones I embellished.