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December 3, 2001
I mutter something derogatory into my cup of coffee. I didn't ask to have a talking cat, and even if I had, I wouldn't have requested a sarcastic smart-arsed one. I didn't ask to be a 'rare' person who represents an eternal gate between universes either. And I certainly don't remember signing up to be a Vile victim. All I want is to continue studying, obsess about my almost sort-of maybe boyfriend, and watch the occasional episode of 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' without experiencing deja-vu.

'Well, some of us have work to do,' I tell Argyle as I get up.