Winter Sage

3

Winter Sage | Chapter 3 

It had been almost a week since the stranger...no, Sage had arrived. She was getting used to him. His quirkiness that could not be described. Odd. Just odd. And his endless, rhetorical questions that sometimes drove her nuts. 

"What's this? What's that? What does that mean? Why is that? Why can't it be this way? Why not?" Like a mom teaching her new born baby. She tried to answer his questions as much as possible. 

"It's a street light. It's a stop sign. It means you can't go. You just can't. If you go, you'll probably get run over by a car. Oh dear..." 

Maybe she was too impatient. Yet, she enjoyed his company from time to time. She enjoyed sharing her afternoon tea with someone...Even if that someone burned his inner mouth every time he drank. She enjoyed having the company of someone when she went grocery shopping....Even if that someone ran off by himself and returned with a handful of random, unnecessary things she didn't need: a soap bar, detergent, dog food, a pack of wooden chopsticks, and a stack of thank you cards. 

"Okay, let's go now." she would often drag him to leave the grocery store and he would hold onto the cart like a baby. 

"No, Kennedy. No, I want to stay a little longer." Then people would stare. A mom would hug her son tighter as if Sage would harm him. A old man would frown and shake his head. They would stare as if he was mentally ill. Odd. Outlandish. As if something was wrong with Sage. Others would just send smiles of sympathy. She hated their stares. She would often give them the dirtiest looks and roll her eyes. They couldn't, well shouldn't, possibly judge Sage. Now she felt obligated to protect him from time to time. 

Yet, she saw things others couldn't see. The grocery store was like an amusement park for Sage. He would go inside the fridge as if it were a ride and stay in there until she came to pull him out. He would touch all the birthday cards, one by one, and admire the colors and the swirly fonts with his twinkling eyes. These things were rare to see. Acts of genuine curiosity and joy from discovery of new things. It seemed to be only present in pure naivety and adolescence that Sage seemed to carry. 

It had been exactly a week since Sage had arrived. He wasn't quite strange anymore. Just a little different. Kennedy waited. 

"Sage, sit down." she patted the seat in front of her and brew herbal tea. 

"Are we having our 'afternoon tea', Kennedy?" 

"Yes." she took out two mugs and poured the tea slowly. "Drink it slowly this time. Don't burn yourself." 

He didn't hear her warning. He drank it immediately and scowled. He stuck his tongue out. "Blehhh." 

She rolled her eyes. "I told you so...you never listen." 

Kennedy took a small sip and took out a recording device. It was old and black, dusty and worn out, but she had used it often when she recorded random things like the chirping sound of birds or the cry of a baby. That was forever ago. That forever was five years ago when she used to make a living as a writer. A renowned writer. Yet, fame didn't last long. She hated the world for changing. She couldn't keep up, adapt to meet the needs of the changing world. Well, there seemed to be other authors who were willing to change faster than she did. They were the ones who rose higher and higher. She didn't. 

"Sage..." she started. She was afraid. She didn't want to push him. A small part of her felt guilty. It was as if she was stealing from him. "I was wondering...are you ready to tell me that story of yours...?"

He looked up from his cup. He hid behind the steam, but it immediately disappeared when it touched his skin. "Story? My story? What do you want me to tell you?"