"Time One" He continued to scribble on torn paper. He was frantic in his efforts to explain the presence that hovered over the common home in an almost downtown district of Los Angeles. The tabletop was glass. His pen scratched and finally the tip broke off in his frenzy of scribbling. "You are like in a black hole," the roommate said. The eyes that glistened back held fury and a haughty superiority. "You don't even know what you're talking about. A black hole is not really a hole." "Then I guess we're in the hole," the roommate replied. "You're a hole." "No, you are." "So much for intellectual banter." His eyes reverted to staring at the random markings and sketches that covered the papers that he held in place with a glass globe that had been carved from volcanic glass. "They're coming." He looked up with passion and fear. "Well, then I'm going." The door slammed. Acrylic on watercolor paper 11"x15".