Cogito

in my left ventricle

I built up a little

alter...

Ergo,

it said in Latin

upon it

love will lie here

for slaughter

It will be sacrificed

and if not forgiven

all will surely be forgotten

I will keep it

in this cage

Beating

and it will

serve me

right,

in Sum...

And escaping

wax winged lit

in hopeful prayer

the likeness of god

will tumble

To its chamber, back

where I think I am

its keeper

and it, the

worshiper

2024 SEP 08

"For you shall worship no other god, for the Lord, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God (Exodus 34:14).

"Some psychiatrists say that people who eat peanut butter sandwiches are lonely...I guess they're right. And when you're really lonely, the peanut butter sticks to the roof of your mouth." (Clark Gesner, You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown)

1 If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have peanut butter, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have jelly, I am nothing.

3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not trade my lunch, I gain nothing.

4 God is love, but love is jelly. God is omnipotent, but peanut butter is all-sticking.

5 Love is sticky, and it sticks to the roof of your mouth and remains long past the digestion of the jelly.

6 Protein and sugars are the nutrition of love.

7 Love does not delight in tartness but rejoices with the pasty reminders hours later from your teeth. It always sticks, always sweetens, always comes in brown paper bags, and always perseveres as fair barter at lunchtime.

8 Love never fails. But the prophecies they will cease; where the tongues smack and cannot be unstuck; where there is knowledge good and evil, and these are PBJ and broccoli, respectively. Verily, vegetables will pass away.

9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part,

10 but when the alchemy of peanuts and grapes come together, the separateness of them disappears.

11 When I was a child, I ate like a child, I tasted like a child, I digested like a child. When I became a man, I couldn't put the ways of childhood behind me.

12 Yet, now we must watch our waistlines. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

13 And now these three remain: proteins, fats, and starches. But the greatest of these is the love for the sticky and the sweet.

14 And fear not! For there is Jardiance.

15 And the Lord saw that it was good.

16 Like peanut butter and jealousy.

My heart performs a tune so few may hear,

A quiet violin whispering passionately in the ear.

The trees sing along but even they are distant,

Myself, alone, the only thing that’s consistent.

The piano keys quicken, giving way to the night,

As the stars lay dying, falling from light,

and darkness beckons me forward in fright.

The harp strikes harshly showing all that’s infected,

Harmonizing a tune of what’s self-neglected,

Myself, the cause for what self-abandoning affected.

As the silence falls, encapsulating my soul,

I collapse under the weight of my own black hole.

I try to see the shadows that make me whole,

But with each thump of the bass, my demons rush forward.

Left all alone, panicked, and cornered,

Myself, exposing how I feel tortured.

Deeper I dig into an eternal abyss,

Listening for the lessons of all that‘s amiss.

The symphony mellows, the thundering dismissed.

Myself, the conductor, of all I remiss.

With each epiphany that I unearth,

Alone is the place I learn my worth,

Accept myself, and with it rebirth.

Maybe when you find someone else to fall in your arms

my heart will sink, a stone in a bottomless sea.

I know you'll be happy with anyone else but me.

Because I was never your missing piece

just played a part of the brushstrokes hand

like a violin that created our children beautifully.

From a hit by The Bangles, to the bloody and '80s adulating reach of American Psycho, episode number 38 starts and ends with more bangs than a West Texas brothel in the 1800s. Seven writers from the site complete the landscape here, with a lead by area_man, and wrapped nicely with thePearl and Mariah, so you know the new blood between them holds its mud.

Here's the link to the show.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLsEjqj8g6s

And here are the pieces featured on Prose. Radio.

https://www.theprose.com/post/816235/when-the-zoloft-hits https://www.theprose.com/post/816024/searching https://www.theprose.com/post/816017/they-call-her-fickle

https://www.theprose.com/post/816230/the-day-i-decided-to-live https://www.theprose.com/post/816225/if https://www.theprose.com/post/816122/i-redact-my-forgiveness

https://www.theprose.com/post/816108/perceived

And.

As always.

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team

the most scary things

are usually the most ordinary

being left behind

is one of my most treasured monsters

- Eleonore

I stand there for a longer while, my body so stiff and tight that it resembles a bizarre granite sculpture, my eyes staring at the setting sun until the sky outside the window turns completely dark, heavy clouds bringing rain that falls down to the hectic, busy streets, while my mind wanders around two unexpected conversations I had. My eyebrows furrow tightly together at the fact that I could still be stunned by the things happening in my life. It seemed I had seen it all, stepping on the shaky grounds of grief and supernatural elements blending so deeply into my existence. And yet the ordinary events tended to still catch me off guard. I think as Charlie's voice still echoes in my head, his gentle stare on me as he shared the news with me just the day before. I have been so occupied with all the craziness that the mundane facts and situations started to acquire a magical ability to blur out from my mind. I gaze at the street below, my eyes following the reckless people who decided to engage the chill of the evening that has become way too eager to earn the Winter title before the calendar could - and groan slightly as my brain replays the conversations I had never planned to have.

With everything going on, I forgot to tell you before. You will be pleased to hear that Mrs. Wilson is doing better, and her doctor officially signed her out yesterday. With her age and physical state, she will still need help getting around, but I also know the daughter already made arrangements for a part-time home nurse who will be checking up on her, assisting her with anything she needs, and making sure she regularly eats and gets stronger.

I remember blinking several times before I could utter any reasonable response, watching his hands gesture with enthusiasm by the cafeteria table as he reported the hospital newsletter to me.

She left?

My question seemed a bit hollow as something tightened in my chest, invisible weights making me sink deeper into the red plastic chair I was sitting on.

She was signed out because she's doing better.

Charlie corrected me - slowly, patiently, and then frowned, hearing the tones in my voice.

I thought you would be happy for her.

I felt bad for my reaction. I felt bad for still having traces of abandoned issues even after all these years; feeling as if once again I was somehow left behind. It didn't make any sense to react like that, but it was stronger than me. I got so used to Clair being around, safely in the same room and the same bed that her sudden absence caused a small gap in my body, locating itself like several sharp splinters between my ribs, and causing me to shift uncomfortably in the chair. Once again, you got attached, silly girl. I sighed and trambled a bit, frustrated, feeling like a spoiled child - a child who was over-sensitive to the world around her in so, so many ways. I swallowed nervously but managed to put myself together, my embarrassment perspiring through my skin like unwanted sweat.

No, I am happy. Trust me, I am.

Your face seems to contradict your words.

I grimaced slightly, hoping he didn't notice.

Charlie, I'm a complicated paradox, no point in looking too deeply into that pit of despair.

Nora.

Just one word and I heard all the questions he had in his head, and it had nothing to do with my random abilities that appeared whenever they wanted to - besides, my questionable "powers" didn't seem to penetrate his serious-minded, thick skull. Not that it actually worked on command at any time, it was more a case of someone wanting to share thoughts or feelings with me. Well, I didn't think anyone really realized that they left an open door for me; it usually just felt like tuning into a piracy radio station when my antenna hit the right wavelength, most times by pure accident. I remember getting lost in all those speculations until being abruptly brought back when I finally noticed Charlie's stare losing its tolerance for the extended silence.

You just caught me off guard. I expected her to still be in her room, in her bed.

He looked at me as if scanning me from top to bottom, his expression turning surprised at first, and then softening a bit.

It's because she didn't say goodbye.

It wasn't really a question, more of a statement, and my face very quickly turned into unflattering shades of crimson. I didn't say anything in response. What was there really to say?

It's okay to miss someone. But the important thing is that she's doing better and that Connie and Clair's granddaughter could take her home.

I nodded, knowing that he was right.

She left you something before they left.

He said unexpectedly and pulled something from the front pocket of his beige scrubs. He put a small, yellowed envelope with my name elegantly handwritten on it on the table between us. I thought of Clair's shaky hands and felt that her daughter must have written it for her. With some hesitation, I reached for the envelope, sliding it slowly towards me, feeling a certain weight to it that I was not expecting. I eyed Charlie suspiciously for a moment and then sighed, opening the little rectangle, feeling it was time to finally act like an adult. My eyes grew wider as I fished out a delicate round shape; it was gold and marked with tiny vines and roses on the outside, while the inside held a miniature sign on its surface that took up the entire space of the ring. I narrowed my eyebrows and brought the ring closer to my face until the words came into focus. "May we always bloom for each other under the Autumn sun.". I stared in disbelief at the object in my hand, as if it could burn a hole in my skin.

Her wedding ring??

Even though my voice was barely a croaked whisper, it seemed to bounce off all the walls as if I had screamed the question. Charlie pursed his lips as if holding back a grin and then pointed to the envelope. I watched him without understanding what he meant, until he made a circle gesture, prompting me to turn it around. I did what I was told and gazed at an old-fashioned, more messy, and slightly uneven handwriting.

"Too wide now for my bony fingers anyhow. It will have better use on your hand."

I played around with the ring, shifting it in every direction and watching as the light cascaded beautifully against its surface, staring at it with growing disbelief.

I don't understand. Why would she give this to me, Charlie? Even if the ring was too loose for her fingers, and for some bizarre reason she no longer felt the need to wear it it was her daughter that should be wearing it. Or her grandaughter, or anyone from the family... anyone but me.

He looked at me as if searching for something.

But it's you that she wanted to gifted to.

I shook my head repeatedly gazing at the ring. And then my stare shifted to my name on the envelope making me even more confused as a realization hit me over the head.

And Conne accepted the idea. They both did.

Slowly, I looked up at Charlie, and he nodded calmly.

It's what they decided, and that's that. "No returns, I'm afraid." Connie's words, not mine.

He smiled at me gently, and I caved in, slouching against the chair and feeling that there was no more reason to fight against the current. I opened my hand carefully and slid it on the second finger of the left hand; it fitted perfectly. I inhaled deeper, knowing exactly and painfully what the golden band represented, and quickly moved it to my other hand.

Why would she do it, though?

My eyes met Charlie, and he shrugged.

Sometimes, there is no reason to dig too deeply, Nora. Just like you said before.

His eyes stayed on me for a while, and then he reached for my hand and took it, his thumb sliding against the ring.

You opened your heart to her, and so did she. And this is her stating it.

I felt emotions well up in me, feelings like slushing waves moving against my stormy core, my gaze fogging up as tears quickly filled my eyes. I took away my hand from his and stared at the golden band as if it held all the answers I was searching for.

You really think so?

I don't think it. I know it. And because they predicted your responses, Connie left their home phone number. Would you like it?

He unblocked his phone and after a few seconds, showed me the number on the screen. I grabbed his phone without asking and quickly stood up.

I need a moment.

He nodded, not surprised, and returned to his meal, leaving me to my own doings. I walked away to the big windows that occupied the entire south wall of the cafeteria and stared outside at nature's grey, ugly weather manifest while the ringing sounds filled my ears - tapping my foot as the waiting time seemed to outstretch mercilessly.

The current Wilson and O'Reley residence. How can I help?

An amused, young voice answered, and even though I never met her personally, I knew exactly who it was.

Ah yes... yes. Is Connie around? I mean, Mrs. O'Reley. Sorry.

May I ask who this is?

Eleonore. She knows me from the hospital.

Oh, so you're the tribute volunteer who brought my grandmother back to the land of living, huh?

It seems so. Yes.

I said in my standard awkward way, a tone that usually appeared when I didn't have an actual idea what my game plan was. Cheers to being hot-headed and irrational.

Well, in that case, she just might be around for you. We give miracle workers extra points in this family.

She stated in a still amused tone, but I could tell there were additional emotions and unconcealed gratitude in her voice. I could almost feel the warm energy flowing from her and into my body. It was both a comforting and a surreal feeling to experience. After a moment of silence on the line, I heard a muffled cacophony of shouted questions and answers that led to a low clicking sound.

Eleonore, dear. It's good to hear from you.

Connie sounded slightly out of breath as if she was rushing through many flights of stairs and it made me wonder how big their house actually was.

Same here.

I might not have time today for pleasantries as I'm busy in the kitchen, so let's cut to the chase.

A smile formed on my lips as I heard her tones, making me realize how she and her daughter were more alike than they cared to admit.

Yes, ma'am.

I answered shortly with a smile, saluting her in my mind.

I'm guessing it's about the ring and possible arguments about where it belongs. No need, it's right where it's supposed to be. On your surprisingly pale yet very pretty hand. End of discussion.

I figured as much. But Connie... are you sure? I mean, it's an important family heirloom. Wouldn't it be better for one of you?

First of all, I already have my father's ring.

She started, and suddenly, out of nowhere a memory of her in the hospital struck me, an image of her playing around with a delicate golden necklace with a round, thick band and a tiny cross filling my mind.

But...

And eventually, it will be my daughter's as well. There, problem solved. Am I making myself clear enough?

Her tone was strict and not to be disputed with. I took a deeper breath and said with a resigned tone, knowing I would be beaten and disarmed whatever argument I would use.

Crystal.

Good, perfection. Now, I'm guessing that the other reason for your call is that you missed my mother, the terrorist. A retired one, but still active in her position.

Yes, that as well.

Well, I'm happy to report that for a woman her age she is doing a bit better every single day. We still have our ups and downs but she is definitely more vocal about her needs and demands. I think it's what keeps her going: her well-equipped military qualities. Thankfully, you were never fooled by her delicate exterior and know that our family has their personal general to our display. Not that we have any choice in the matter.

Connie's gentle chuckles carried to my ears, and I was stunned at how much she had changed since I met her, never before being a witness to such a flow of words from her.

But she's a good general to be around.

I could feel softness fill me up as the words left my mouth, love, and care moving around under my skin and reaching the deepest part of my being. And I knew that Connie heard it too.

She loves you, Eleonore. I do not doubt it.

I could hear her taking a bigger breath, her strong emotions mixing with mine into one combined organism, making me lean my forehead against the cafeteria window for some support, my fingertips leaving prints on the glass, my hand trembling as the cool surface seemed to penetrate my skin right to the bone.

And you have saved her in more ways than one. You saved our family when we needed it the most.

I didn't do much. I just read to her and... listened to the silent grief when she couldn't find words.

I couldn't tell her that I listened to her mother's memories as if they were scenes in a movie. I couldn't tell her that I took her pain in the best way that I could and cradled it until its weight was smaller, and the edges of her sorrow less sharp before I placed it delicately back into her frail arms, repeating it every time I set by her bedside or held her hand. I didn't even realize I was doing it until the ache I felt from her became less heavy, less suffocating. I think that cradling her sorrow and pain helped me deal a bit with my own, healing things in me that I never dared to touch myself. We helped each other in more ways than I could count. And I knew deep down that she brought me strength too. It never ceased to amaze me how two bruised and broken souls could bring light into each other's lives that they lacked on their own.

That was enough. That was enough for her to come back and let us in again after being closed off for so long. We finally got her back.

Connie said in a hushed, slightly muffled voice, and I felt all the unspoken words and feelings that hid underneath, random tiny flashes of visions filling my mind as if delicate butterflies with golden fluttering wings. Memories. Most of them appeared and quickly vanished before I could even fully register them but one lingered long enough for me to hold it gently in my hands. A little girl with fair hair holding her mother's hand as a tall man came back home from work - the soft light of the golden hour surrounding him in amber hues of the setting sun as he walked towards them... I only saw the outlines of his silhouette but I knew him. I knew them all. At that moment waves of love cascaded down my entire body, circulating in my bloodstream and nestled in my chest, filling it with a kind of warmth that every one of us yearns for. I wrapped my free arm around my waist getting lost in the comfort of the memory, and feeling teardrops fall down my cheeks and mark the cool glass.

I know how much you missed her when she closed up on everyone. And I know that for a while it felt like you lost them both. But you didn't.

I said softly, barely stopping myself from speaking the words that filled my heart, blooming like rich luscious vines between my ribs. She loves you, and so does he, I see it in the way he looked at you when he saw your face every time he came back home. That kind of love, it swells up in you, the kind of love that makes you feel safe, so safe that nothing could ever harm you. I felt the words waiting to flow out of me like a rushing river but I held it all in. Almost.

I feel how much Clair loved your father, and there were times when I felt it so strongly that I could nearly touch the love that came from him even though I never had the privilege to meet him in person. But that love... I feel it around you too as if it never left. As if he's still keeping you safe.

A heavy silence fell down between us and instantly I felt angry with myself for not shutting up in time.

I'm sorry, Connie. I shouldn't have said that. Sometimes I just seem to sense more than I should. I can't explain it. Just ignore me and blame it on temporary insanity.

No...

Connie choked out and I shrunk a bit inside of myself feeling all of her emotions ran over me like stampeding wild horses, dust settling everywhere, covering my hair, my clothes, my lungs. Digging me deep into the ground beneath me.

No... no. Thank you. I don't know how you could have possibly known all of that, FELT all of that but... But thank you, Eleonore. Just... thank you.

She broke off and I could hear her cry, sobbing softly into the receiver, holding back the sound of it as much as she could as if not wanting to worry her daughter or anyone else in the house. I felt the blend of pain and relief cascade out of her, washing over the wounds that were left there after her father was gone. It felt almost as if my words brought him closer to her again, as if at that moment he had joined her for one more warm embrace. And I saw it in my mind. I saw her surrendering into that embrace, I watched her come back home after a very long time. And it wasn't until I felt Charlie's gentle and supporting hand on my shoulder and gazed at my own reflection in the window that I realized it wasn't just Connie's sobs on the other side of the line that I was hearing. No, they were mine as well, streaking down my face in a rushing, overwhelmed way. I didn't turn back to him, just watched his eyes in the glass, as he listened patiently to both my cries and Connie's in my ear, letting us both decompress whatever it was that we had to go through. And we did. Eventually, we said our gentle goodbyes, smiling at the incredible relief that we both felt afterward.

I leaned into Charlie and he let myself sink into him until I found my footing again, until I was once again made of one body and one beating heart, and not two.

_ _ _ _ _

Suddenly, something catches my attention, causing me to return to the present. I stir a bit as the noises of the rain mix with new sounds; a faint vibration of a child's soft snores. I look back at Emily's little body bundled up in a few blankets on a big, comfy sofa, a ridiculous amount of stuffed animals guarding her safety as she sleeps; the blue lights of the TV coloring her delicate, relaxed features. Mmm, babysitting duties while her mother is at a local art gallery, showcasing her newest paintings - rich and wild in color, luscious as one was touching and sinking into a rain forest. Hypnotizing in its power. I was never too aware of how to pursue and take in art in the "right way" but her's spoke to me, it always has and that hasn't changed. My admiration for my best friend and her talents has only grown over the years that I've known her.

I smile and sit down on the sofa next to Emily's petit form, my fingers moving gently through her blond, messy locks that remind me so much of Cara's hair, and gaze at her with wonder. If only I was allowed such rest, such peace - I think and yawn loudly, rubbing my eyes and trying to remember when was the last time I slept more than two hours in a row. The answer doesn't come, too difficult to drag out of the exhausted, dark corners of my mind. Slowly, I shift and roll into a ball next to the little warm body that seemed to always have a soothing effect on me. My own dosage of morphine that did not require stealing or lies. Pure, not yet stained energy that promised to hold back the demons, to restrict the monsters from under the bed even if just for now.

___________________________

This story has proven to be a much longer journey than I have ever anticipated but I still love it every step of the way. Even if often the ride is bumpy and frustrating, it is also extremely rewarding and has let me grow alongside with it. Every time one of my characters evolves and heals, so do I, and I am very grateful for that - even when those characters don't listen to me the way I would like, instead just leave me to follow them and write down their many hilarious, deeply moving and often very bizarre conversations.

So for everyone who still sticks around and checks up on Nora and Charlie, from time to time, THANK YOU, it drives me forward and guides me closer to the finish line, making sure that everything they have to say will be put on paper, and one day will physically earn a place on bookshelves in your homes *the power of manifestation intensifies* :)

Don’t tell me your hot lava lies

Burning down my ears

Sinking into my skin like somber cries,

You’re the one who gave up on us

Sucked the life out of me

Then disappeared like dust,

I’m clawing the walls to feel alive

While you pretend to listen

I witness your pleasure in seeing me deprived,

Remember when we said we wouldn’t do this?

It wasn’t long ago that day on the beach

Or maybe you were just taking the piss,

In any case I’m done, the sea’s a better choice

Im on my way there now

I’m going to find my buried voice,

The stones I throw are the remnants of you

I’ve emptied the beach of them

My broken heart was the last I threw.

Don’t

It is not often I write something like this, but here goes nothing.

Olivia Rodrigo is absolutely massive right now, and she only has one solo album, and zero singles. Though she does have singles and compilations under her name, every last one of them was written and sung for (and possibly even written by someone else for) Highschoool Musical the Musical the Series (can you please stick to one name, please? Also, what's with the redundancy?).

On May 21st, she released an album (SOUR) and absolutely exploded. No one talked about her before, she was not exactly famous for singing, no one was talking about going to see her in concert. She was just known as that one girl who played the cute dumb one in that stupid show with Jake Paul on Disney Channel, and now plays... I dunno. Whoever she plays in Redundancy the Series. And, yes, I know the name of the show was Bizaardvark.

Well, she released her album and, next thing you know, she is absolutely everywhere. Thirteen year old girls absolutely love her music, and she is on the radio.

I didn't really think anything of it. A lot of artists kind of emerge out of nowhere these days (Lil Tecca and Lil Nas X, both of whom I don't listen to for... well, we'll get into that).

I try to avoid artists with massive followings. Number one in the world sends off red flags after listening to what everyone calls amazing, what critics call the album of the year, and artists who seem to have an overwhelmingly positive feedback typically tells me "Beats slap, lyrics are kind of just a bunch of meaningless nothing." It sounds good, but it isn't music and I don't like it. Music (when referring to music with lyrics) should have meaning. I'm not saying you shouldn't like it... you do you. I just don't think they are deserving of album of the year, or greatest artist ever, et cetera. And I'm not going to listen to them... because I don't listen to music for how it sounds.

After a few months, I finally caved and gave the song that everyone was falling head-over-heels for a listen. I read up on the backstory, gave Sabrina Carpenter's reply a listen (which kinda sucked, in my opinion. Skin, if you're wondering). I forgot about it until yesterday.

I was at a wedding, working, and I couldn't help but find humor in the fact that they were playing good 4 u at the wedding. This song, if you are not aware, is Rodrigo's biggest song. It is also about how a guy she used to date moved on way too fast, she feels like crap, and she can see he is happy with having moved on to someone else so quickly. Why would you play that at a wedding?

Well, hearing it again made me start thinking. And I realized something.

Her over night sensation status is not entirely undeserving.

Now, I have not listened to anything else from her. But her biggest song? Well, it's actually pretty good. Musically and melodically, it's great. I know there is a controversy on whether or not she stole the melody, but let's ignore that. How it sounds, though important, isn't top priority. Lyrically? It is surprisingly good. I actually enjoyed it.

She talks about how the break up affected her, what hurts her about him moving on... It's actually good.

That's all I had to say. I just wanted to talk about it. Thanks for reading!

With Graham long behind me, I continue on my trail to the fairy tree. The closer I am, the more I realise how majestic she is. She stands like a queen-- firm on her roots upholding a trunk that stood the tests of time. She stands above everything else in her vicinity, with her branches wide like a queen on her citadel’s balcony. If she doesn’t know where Jo is, I don’t think anyone does.

I hover over the cold river, dark and deep, shielding a moon of its own. The moon underneath seems considerably closer to reach out to rather than the one in the sky. It makes me wonder why no one might have attempted the same. I hold myself from investigating the possibility right there, right then. It was bare and empty, after all. What will it change if I successfully reach out?

I am now only a few feet away from the fairy tree. And another few feet away from Jo. I bring myself to a halt when I reach a distance from where she could hear me, “Ma’am, have you seen a little girl?” The fairy tree doesn’t answer. She seems to be stargazing. I decide to ask a bit louder this time, “She is a young girl. She is missing.”

That gets her attention. Not much, though. She asks me something widely different, “Isn’t it beautiful?” I am unable to understand what she is trying to convey. “What is?” I ask. She is a wise lady. The ones with wisdom always make the simple things appear cryptic. Perhaps, it is what this is.

“The stars. The night sky. The cold wind. Look around. With your eyes open.” She says. Is this a riddle? Does she mean that I am not looking hard enough? But where is Jo? The tree continues, “Did you find what you are looking for?” Now, it’s a bit terrifying. Not terrifying. I am not terrified. But it feels weird, like a murderer asking whether their prey is happy tonight.

“I am Camila. And you?” Camila! What? Why? Camila literally means young. And she is old. Way old. Her barks seem to have wrinkles like that of Jo’s grandmother. This is hopeless. This psychic tree is not taking me anywhere. Why is everything so fruitless tonight?

I walk away from her. Some part of me still anticipates a call from behind, finally sharing the relevant details. But she doesn’t. She goes back to gazing at the blank sky the moment I take a few steps away from her. Hopeless. A small blade of grass is called Graham, and a too old fairy tree is called Camila! Who even names these people?

“I did?”

########

I know the chapter feels like a let-down after what might have seemed like a nice start. I wrote the beginning a few weeks ago, but I could never finish the chapter after that. So, this is much more of a rough effort to get things done rather than a well-written chapter. I hope you guys forgive me for that (: The chapter does follow the outline, just not good enough... I will try and make up to it with the next chapter ^-^ Hope you guys like it!