Dear Intruder | (Completed)

CHAPTER 19: Speaking Of Science

It's like being in sleep paralysis, fully aware that you're dreaming but not knowing how to break yourself out. I had a weird dream tonight, of giant flying whales and scary sharks everywhere. That could be the byproduct of me watching 'sharknado' before I slept (turns out watching a boring movie to fall asleep isn't the best idea), I don't know what was wrong with my subconscious... no semblance of science, like come on sharks and whales have no business existing anywhere outside of an ocean!

Speaking of science... You're right of course, space-time quantum entanglement for a simple letter exchange: not worth it, also, it's a little too scientific but at least it's not something paradigmatic like a message in a bottle or a roll of parchment delivered by a homing pigeon. (I highly doubt the efficiency of those methods of course, but they used to work- you have to admit).

And, wow you've got quite a few plans to dwell into a quantum realm, I didn't mean to lead you down the path of a mad scientist, but go ahead by all means, also maybe you could try stealing the infinity stones while you're at it, although I doubt Dr. Strange and Loki would be happy to part with their beloved infinity stones, they would wanna fight you, it could turn ugly. (Also, your guess 'The Lake House' was correct. Maybe I'm too obvious sometimes.)

I'm wondering why is it so 'unfortunate' that you're studying science? I sense a story... Or am I reading too much into it? Which one is it?

You say I force you to notice a lot of things you otherwise wouldn't, well...in a way, I guess I do, but to be honest, I force myself to do that too, I don't usually observe and appreciate everything around me any more than anybody else... anyone would see it all, if only they pulled themselves out of their phone screens and actually looked around, the beauty we're always surrounded by, the nature we are so hell-bent on destroying. It's just that social media and the digital-technological world has us all so immersed that now we don't live the moment even within the moment, we are already trying to preserve it, taking pictures, videos, documenting it rather than living and experiencing it for what it is, It's hard not to let yourself get wrapped up in all of it, especially when it's so prevalent, but I try to resist it and encourage others to do the same, If that makes any sense?

Maybe that's why this hasn't turned into an email, text or phone conversation, the feel of paper in my hands can never compare to those things... Or maybe I'm just an old soul deep inside. What do you think?

Curiously,

El-Annie

P. S.  One of my professors told me to participate in the Laurent International Short Story Contest, but I'm still debating about it. I'm not dreaming of winning it or anything close, I guess there's no harm in trying, but I don't think my writing measures up to such a prestigious contest. Am I overthinking this?

Ella almost forgot, and instinctively signed her real name, but the thought struck and she caught herself at the very last moment. But then she sighed and looked down at the letter, wishing she could really sign her own name and read his words addressed to her for real.

One can wish.

These new feelings stirring inside her were scary, but Ella reassured herself, thinking those letters weren't any different than jotting down words in a journal... knowing all too well that no journal documenter waited so impatiently and breathlessly for a response to arrive and stayed in the library like a besotted fool.

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"I talked to every Elliot I know and he's not one of them." Said Nora and Ella raised an eyebrow in question.

Both friends were sitting in their tiny kitchen, using the side of the counter as a tabletop for their brunch. Ella was eating her leftover chicken sandwich while Nora was inhaling her steaming hot and spicy ramen noodles like she always does.

"Talked?" Ella pointed out, "Are you sure that's what it was, I'm thinking it was more of a: 'tell me if you're writing anonymous letters to someone or I'll break your arm and beat you to death with it?'"

Nora rolled her eyes, "You're being extra."

"No, I'm not, I just know you," Ella said and she shrugged like threatening people was no big deal.

"Whatever, it gets the job done," Nora said and Ella was instantly immersed in disapproval but knew she couldn't change her friend's mind, it's not like she hasn't tried. "Were you able to find out something?" She asked.

As much as Ella pretends to think otherwise, she was a little too curious about her anonymous pen friend and she couldn't sit still. "I try to pay attention whenever I'm in the library, but no one seems overly cautious or anything." I told her, "I've tried to look out for people who match his personality and so far I only have Jared from mass communication, he was playing 'sound of silence' on his guitar, Simon from literature wore an 'Avengers' sweatshirt and then there's this guy John who was talking to his friend about a lost diary...all these things are vague, I feel like I'm grasping at straws."

"The suspect is smarter than we think El, we need to up our game," Nora said, making Ella cough.

"Suspect?" Ella pointed out, as she calmed.

"I'm not using his fake name." Nora said, "Do you think it's someone you know?"

"I thought it was Patrick at one point." Ella admitted, "But the more I think about it he seems less and less like him."

Nora had choked and was now recovering, "Jay's roommate Patrick?"

"Yeah." Ella nodded. "But it's not him..." The details don't add up, he doesn't really like reading fiction I think.

"What if he knows who you are and is good at hiding in plain sight?" Nora thought out loud.

Ella wondered, and her mind analysed the possibilities. He never expressed interest in meeting or finding out more about her, he shot down her request to meet, he was curious about her ideas and thoughts but was never curious about who she was, he somehow managed to get back his journal, and he never seems to be in the library when she's there...

Her eyes widened in understanding as the very real probability flitted across her mind, and she looked at her friend and frowned.

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