Stories

Road

I once had a friend who used to think a lot. He would stay all day thinking about his problems and all of his worries. You could speak with him and he would be thinking about something else.

He got in his thoughts so much, that you would forget he's even in the room. He wouldn't speak. He would just sit there, thinking, watching and then again, thinking.

He was a writer as well. Everything he thought, he would put it into words. That was the only way you could communicate with him. He loved it a lot. But you could also tell there was something wrong.

He would stare at you, looking kinda desperate. Like, he's looking for a story. Looking for a missing piece of his crazy puzzle. You could tell there was something odd about him.

Everyday, I would walk pass him and he would stare at me, all they way till I was gone. That was very weird. He also carried a notebook on which he would draw everything he sees.

After sometime, I stopped seeing him. I got worried, from seeing him every day when I'm of to work, to seeing nothing if his existence.

A few months go by and I get a package. I didn't ordered anything. I opened it and it was his notebook. I thought that he might have given up on writing or drawing.

I opened it, and surprisingly,  I was in there. He was indeed writing and drawing what he saw. As I went through the pages, I figured that this is a story book. One filled with my story. My life, places I've eaten, clothe I've put on since we met.

There was an Authors Note, or an Authors Thanks list or something. Anyway, what it said was:

" Dear Elizabeth, I thank you for this opportunity of writing a book. Thank you for being my subject, character and bringing a story to life. Thank you for all the wonderful moments. From the one where we met, till the one when you bought me some food, and the last time we spoke. I now move on finding stories, finding new characters and a new blank book. My road leads me to a new path, one filled with many adventures, one filled with many opportunities and wisdom. I give you this book as a gift. As a reminder of what you have done for me. 

Love, Stingie."