Spending time at home is so different than being on a case. I've always lived a solitary existence, trapped in my own mind, but when working on a mystery I'm too busy sniffing out clues and running from monsters to notice.
It's me against the world, with no one else on my wavelength, except for my few friends, and even then I feel cut off from them depending on the placement of trap doors and secret rooms. Isolation can be devastating. Once in a while I jump into Shaggy's arms just to convince myself I'm not alone in this world.
Being at home though, there's no interference. Alone with my thoughts. My hunger. I go from screaming and being screamed at for days on end, to complete silence. It's pretty jarring.
When I say home, I really mean Fred's parent's house. They are never home for some reason and the gang crashes there all the time. No where else to be. There isn't enough room inside the house for everyone, so I have a small place in the backyard. Only about twice the size of my body, but there's a roof over my head and a floor to sleep on. I like being out there, usually. With the rest of the backyard critters and a moon hanging out above. Sometimes I think about how that very same moon is also looming over some spooky castle somewhere, scaring the fuck out of someone.
This is a break from the chaos, and yet I get no respite since my brain is still on "search and destroy" mode. I quietly contemplate the adventures that haunt me to this day. And the ones I know I'll face in the future.
Daphne has a boating trip planned.
