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He looked to the window as if he were going to see his mother. He looked to the floor where he saw his father slain. Nothing but a dark spot remained. He finally looked down at his hands. Did I change history? Was I there, did this happen? Torin remembered the panel inside the closet and he flung open the door. He pushed where he saw his father push but nothing happened. Discontented he went to grab his pack as he heard a familiar click and the sound of a piece of wood falling over. Could it be true? He slowly turned and looked into the closet, seeing that it was true, there was a small dirk and a piece of parchment. Torin reached into the hole and retrieved both. The dirk seemed to feel warm. Although he knew it had been there for many years it still felt warm to the touch. The sheath was made of silver and the hilt had his family’s crest on one side. The other bore a crest that he had not seen before. He removed the dirk from its sheath and the blade was so clean it almost glowed. It was expensive for me but the best thing for a first date. You got a chance to talk and, if all else failed, ate a decent meal. She surprised me. I'd had blondes, brunettes, one Chinese girl even, but she was my one and only redhead. Long dark red ringlets and hazel eyes, sort of Pre-Raphaelite were her complexion more pale. She wasn't gorgeous but had an interesting face with high cheekbones, one I wouldn't get tired of. She wasn't skinny—I hate skinny women—and very well distributed. One thing great about marriage—you can eat again.On our first date we talked for maybe three hours. She wasn't afraid of interrupting my canned first-date speeches, which I didn't mind one bit. I showed off how cultured I was, considering I was a scientist, and she at least pretended to be impressed. I didn't understand much of her thesis topic—something about Ariosto's influence on Goethe—but I kept my mouth shut. I kept my discussion of organic conductors to five.
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