No password. No truth.

The time is pretty usual, more than half the floor is sleeping. I should be working, but really, that is just an excuse to light another cigarette and stare into the night. This is my time. As always I dwell on the past, think of the possible (or improbable) future. It’s all pretty pointless, except it’s very important. Tonight I can’t help but think of that word document so carefully hidden in that old laptop, locked away in safety. I was prying I know, taking my baby steps towards absolute paranoia. But there it was, an honest disclosure by the one with the magical words; and there was no way of knowing what it actually said. Apart from learning improved ways of data protection, I also got the true taste of desperation. Yes, I was desperate to know. He had told me everything, he said, but then again that was what he told me. There was no reason to disbelieve, I suppose, and I didn’t. It was just that I had to know what he told himself. I did not realize it then, but that night it was not just the prose that I couldn’t read, I couldn’t reach.