Gone.

Henry's Gone.

He's Just Gone.

He's Just Disappeared.

This happened a few weeks ago and until now, it hadn't occurred to me that I should keep blogging about him.  My blog is due to be reviewed by my professor soon and I suppose I don't have any choice but to keep going.

It's like he's just took off.

I'm very upset.

Though I know Henry could not care for me in the way I care for him, that doesn't make this any easier.  He should have said something, anything.  He should have let me know he was going.

I'm not the only one who was shocked.  The police... no, they weren't the police, they made certain to repeat that several times.  Some kind of government officials visitted my appartment, a few weeks ago.  They were looking for Henry, too.  They asked if I had anything of his, anything that might give them some clue about where he'd gone.  One of them noticed a book I had open on the kitchen table.

They took them all.  Any book that Henry had written in, they took them.  I suppose I should have argued, but they said that any of them might contain clues on where Henry might have gone.  They assured me that I'd get the books back after they reviewed them.  They gave me a blank cared with a number on it.

I'm supposed to call if I remember anything.

I'm so upset.  Here is a scan of the article in the paper describing his disappearance.

Over tonight and the weekend, I'm going to continue blogging about Henry.  This will be in part due to my obligations to my Technical Writing course, but also in honor of him.  Wherever he is, I'm sure that he will find a place to squirrel himself away and hide from the world in a satisfying manner.

My next blog will be about marginalia, a habit that Henry adored.