"You know I can't let you go, right?" The man asked, voice gentler than I was expecting it to be. I looked up and he was staring right at me, eyes uncharacteristically kind.
I nod slowly, whispering, "Go ahead."
~~~
Ava Williams is just trying to l...
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The next morning, I noticed something strange when I woke up. There was a small box perched at the foot of my bed. I looked around, but there were no signs that anyone had come and gone during the night.
I grabbed the box and placed it in my lap, noticing a note taped to the top. Carefully, I unattached the note and unfolded it.
Apparently, sundials are hard to come by these days. Hope this works instead.
The handwriting was slanted and the words were cramped together on the small slip of paper. It didn't have a name, but I had a feeling I knew who it was from.
Inside was a watch. It was small with a thin, leather band and a rose gold casing around a black face. When I picked it up, it was heavier than I thought it would be. This didn't seem like the type of watch you'd pick up at your local Walmart. There was no telling how much it was worth. I smiled to myself as I clasped the watch around my wrist.
*****
I found myself falling into a routine of helping Alma in the morning and spending the afternoon in the library before dinner. We cook breakfast together before the rest of the house wakes up, and she teaches me her recipes. Just when I think I have it down, I burn something and we joke about feeding the burnt food to the next person who walks into the kitchen.
When I arrived at the library after burning my second omelet, it wasn't empty. The fire was still burning in the hearth just like every other time and the lights were still turned down low, but there was someone lounging in one of the armchairs.
I paused in the doorway when I realized that it was Izaha with a worn leather-bound book in his hands. He didn't notice me at first and I was about to turn around and leave when I reminded myself that I had just as much right to be in here as he does. Well, maybe not, but I was staying anyway.
My stack of books were still on the table where I had left them and I snatched the top one, settling into the opposite chair quietly. Izaha glanced up from his book for a brief moment but didn't say anything. I curled my feet underneath me and opened my book, and I noticed Izaha's eyes finally drift back to his own book. We fell into a comfortable silence, the fire crackling in the background, as we read with the occasional sound of a page turning. I peeked at him over the top of my book, but his dark eyes just skimmed over the words on the page in front of him.
A phone buzzed a few minutes later and Izaha reached into his pocket, checking the screen. I watched him as he reluctantly closed his book and rose from the chair. He walked out of the room, taking his book with him.
Over the course of the next few days, Izaha usually beat me to the library with his book in his lap when I walked in. I wasn't sure if this was Jaime's way of keeping an eye on me or this was where Izaha spent his free time. Nonetheless, I found a comfortable familiarity in his presence even though we've hardly exchanged more than a couple sentences.
