It was Nineteen Eighty-Four, the cat had gone outside To Kill A Mockingbird. I waited for A Brief History of Time but soon was Gone with the Wind. On the Road, again, In Search of Lost Time, A Midsummer Night’s Dream haunting my Roots. Someday This Will Be Funny, I thought to myself, but Things Fall Apart and The Blind Assassin comes in the Night. I prayed to The God of Small Things After Dark. I wished I’d never left The House on Mango Street. The Will to Believe In Our Time warped by my own Pride and Prejudice. Democracy in America morphed into a Glamorama Of Mice and Men. I thought I saw The King in Yellow on the horizon… nothing but Simulacra and Simulation. Was this simply A Wind in the Door, albeit one strong enough to knock down my House of Leaves? My thoughts were A Confederacy of Dunces, my words A Swiftly Tilting Planet. If A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, does it make The Sound and The Fury our Great Expectations await? I needed a mechanism… The Time Machine that would bring me Home. This time, I’d wait for The Cat Inside.