The Trickster Diaries/Chapter 77

Saturday morning, mid January, 2015. Let cats out. Coffee. Hm, nice day. Feed cats. Lock up. Go for a run. On the way home I stop in to see Liz at her shop. Oh, right, it’s Saturday. She’s not there. It’s the obnoxious blonde who, a week later, Liz fires. Turns out the blonde had stolen over 30 grand in lottery scratchers.
Liz: You’re the only one who warned me, Rico.

Back in real time I unlock and let myself in through the backyard gate. There’d never been a lock on the gate till the year before, when a gentleman carrying a vacuum cleaner snapped, decided HE lived here, not me, entered, and attempted to move in.
The cops dragged him off to the psych ward.

Breakfast. Computer. Ello. Juliette’s channel. I scroll down and…
And there it is.
She’s done it. She’s actually done it.
My body, racing with adrenaline and endorphins, stands up, walks out the back door and through the yard then into the studio, then back out, then in through the house and out the front door, then back in. It goes to the computer and, still standing, confirms what it believes its seen: a black and white close up of Juliette’s left eye, blinking at precise one second intervals.
I shake my head in absolute disbelief: “The ‘French to her toast’ indeed.”
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And although dozens have already commented and her looping, hypnotic fragment has received 1.2k views, only she and I know the origin of the concept, the identity of the model, and the meaning.
So, soaring in a euphoric state of wonder I respond in moderately coded commentary, and within seconds…
“Ding.”
Her response begins: “Ah, the alchemy of commas…”

I crank Hendrix’ “Love or Confusion” and fly through the day, the evening, the next morning, afternoon, until…

“Ding.”