[ He stops to try and remember, and he knows he's taking too long, but his memories seem to be all jumbled and he can't make sense of them. ] It's like I should know something about the pages. I should remember them, or writing them, or why the hell it feels like I need to collect them.

[ He feels himself growing agitated the longer he talks, and for just a second, he reaches up to grip his hair with his hands. No, it seems that Alan can't remember very much of anything relating to the strange pages. ]

You're welcome. [ He can't know how or why, but he just has another growing feeling: a feeling that somehow, Jesse hasn't always been accepted or welcomed anywhere by anyone. Why he feels compelled to welcome her and accept her at face value is really beyond him.

He takes the page she holds out for him and starts to read. It's all about her, and he makes a note of her last name too, adding it to the impression of her he's building in his mind. ]

How accurate is this? And if it is accurate, that's... weird that you're in the story. And even weirder that it's phrased like I wrote it. I'm not screwing with you, in case you're starting to doubt that. I really didn't write this. I have no memory of ever writing any of this. This isn't some kind of sick "gotcha". You don't have to believe me, but I just thought I'd put that out there.