Ten weeks and four days ago, I came to Zoeshire, at the behest of my old friend Tony Taylor.

Sadly, I feel like I have made it to the gym after the prom is over. I hollered out hello into the darkness, but the prom queen (no Tony, I don't mean you!) has fled with the rest of the revelers, and all that's left is the confetti and the crushed paper cups littering the floor.