I could not hold my curiosity back from taking a peek at the filthy, old three-ringed binder.  I sincerely wish I had; I was not in the right mental space to read what I had just read.  Gaining the knowledge that was hidden away inside of that binder was more of a curse than it was a blessing.  The way I thought about life, in general, changed dramatically from that point on, nothing would ever be the same again.

Written in ink on a hardened piece of lined notebook paper, I read the following:

‘Today, September 23rd, 1976, I met a few young women that claimed they had been in an accident.  Linda Ericson, approximately eighteen years old, Sandra Tannell, approximately twenty-four years old, and Wanda Williams, approximately twenty-eight years old, were in the old Sander’s coffee shop talking amongst themselves.  I was studying up on my favorite subject, which will remain nameless because it is so obvious, especially if someone other than m