Unwell

My head throbs and my eyes are growing weary. Half-consciously, I lug myself to the bathroom. I turn the tap at the sink and wet my entire face to be given a pinch of rejuvenation. I guess my body temperature has significantly risen, this would elucidate why the water is freezing cold. I don’t think I can last much longer under this condition. Before I possibly get worse, I figure I should get a glass of warm water and drink it whole. After the last gulp, I slip into something more comfortable and lie straight on the bed, covering myself from neck to toe. Since I’m not a fan of paracetamol, I have to bear with the headache for now. I try to keep my mind void of thoughts and concentrate only on breathing, hoping this meditative state can benumb me from the discomfort and eventually put me to sleep.

Requital

A package shows up at my doorstep out of the blue. There is no sign of postal stamps on it, not even a name or the sender’s address. I flip it around just to make sure, find nothing on the crumpled brown surfaces. Getting the urge to open it up, I carry it into the room and rest it on the table. While sitting on my chair, I unwrap the package. What lies underneath the wrapping paper is a solid blue box. I slit it open with a stationery knife and lift off its cover. As I’m about to take a peek inside, a phone call interrupts. Hurriedly, I reach for my phone which I left in the living room and answer the call. Apparently it’s from Ben’s mother. “I dropped by earlier but you were out. I hope you don’t mind that I put it at your doorstep. It’s just a little something for you as a token of appreciation.”, she sounds rather warm. I express my gratitude on the phone and wish her good health.

Little Ben

“A fully customised ship and all spirit gems collected. No kidding?”, I ask in disbelief. “You bet! Are you looking down on me?”, he replies with a proud smirk on his face. However, he adds that one of the heart containers is selfishly tucked away in the Old Wayfarer’s pocket because he didn’t bother fishing. But I’m still impressed, it was three days ago when I lent him the handheld and he has finished the game. “Where’s your mom?”, I try to change the topic. “Oh, she went grocery shopping. She said she wouldn’t want to trouble you that much.”, he explains. I tell him I don’t mind helping every now and then. “Has your dad ever come visit?”, I dare myself to raise the question. His eyes are checking the door. Then he answers in a soft tone, “Yes, he has. Please keep this between you and me and the cat’s whiskers.”. He extends his little finger and we pinky swear to seal the promise.

A Visit

This is somewhere you don’t want to step into unless you are obliged to do so. The lobby is as cold as the air, there is hardly anyone in sight. I take the elevator and it makes its stop at level five. The first thing I see when the elevator door opens is a sign that reads “Pediatric Ward”. There are more signs at both ends, indicating the range of ward rooms and their respective directions. A hand sanitiser is placed at every room interval, not leaving out the counter too. So here I’m, right in front of the door to Room 516. I slide the door open, carrying his favourite comic books on one hand. He is sitting upright on the bed, with pillows supporting his back. His eyes are fixed on the screens, alternating between each. The very sight of it leaves me beaming. “Saving Princess Zelda?”, I interrupt. “I’m kicking Bellum’s butt!”, he exclaims without looking away from the screens. See how a handheld can keep a kid tied up?

The Decision

I turn up the piece of note and enclose it between the pages. My nous wanders. What’s her name? Could she be the one I encountered back at the reunion? I can easily field these questions if I cut to the chase and meet her here tomorrow. But no, I shouldn’t. This is just me being delirious, I could ruin the whole thing. Getting it through my head, I regain myself and tear another page off the daybook. Consequently, I begin writing. A name would suffice for now, I reckon. I want to get it from her herself though, not from Mrs. Regina, as it seems improper. Writing with the pen, I drop a few more lines and settle for a barely two quarter page length. I split the piece in two and slip the lower half into the daybook. The librarian becomes the bridge, yet again.

Solace

I fathom your pain since I have waded through the desert of unrequited love. It was beyond a doubt a bitter pill to swallow. Dwelling on the ordeal led me nowhere but to an endless cycle of anguish and disappointment. Hence, I tried to endure the bitterness, hoping it would make me a stronger person. Then I came to realise that I should open up my heart and accept the fact that it happened, that it was just another phase of my life. Likewise, you had better free your soul from the torment. Leave the dejection behind and let bygones be bygones. Embrace your inner faith as you have got your whole life ahead of you. Appreciate your senses and make good use of them. I look forward to knowing you better.

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For once, I’m not alone. Her words touch my heart with utmost sincerity that I can almost feel her soul. I will not forget this solace, never.

The Note

What’s with the weather? Disappointment strikes me as I was looking ahead to a brisk sky. Don’t get it wrong though, I’m not yielding to superstition, it’s nothing but my concern over the pair of pure white sneakers. Nevertheless, I make it to the destination I have in mind, slightly drenched by the drizzle. This place still reeks of musty old books to some degree, still it isn’t too much a bother by any means. “Morning, Mrs. Regina.”, I bid her informally. She looks calm as ever. With a hint of grin creasing her face, she responds, “Good day, sonny. Here’s the piece from Ms. Tuesday.” The note is now in my hands. What’s this feeling I’m getting? I’m lost for words to describe. “Thanks again ma’am, I guess I’ll stay for a while.”. “Should I wait for the right moment to read this?”, my inner self questions.