Word From A World | Commence - Book 1

✧ Seven | A Possible Connection ✧

Damp spots appeared on the olden beige page of the diary. I smudged it with my thumb but could not get it off as more began to drop. My initial thought was that it had been sprinkling with rain, but the star of the planet was shining and no clouds had arrived.

I moved my hand to my face and gently wiped under my eyes where tears had fallen. That bitter feeling of nostalgia welled up in my stomach, pushing up to the surface to fall as tears. It wasn't fair. Everything was too vague. I tried to read the page again through blurred vision, but every time I would, the same few words repeated. "Revealed" and "who you are" spoke louder than anything else on the page.

I closed the diary and pulled my head tight to my knees as I hugged them. The journal rested sitting up straight on my lap.

What was I going to do? How was I supposed to take all of this? Was there so much of myself that I didn't know? Why? Why was it happening this way? Why now of all times? Why couldn't I know everything now?

My chest got heavier and heavier until I started choking on my heavy and hurried breaths. My head was against my knees but my vision was so blurred by the tears. Breathe slower. Breathe slower. It didn't go slower. The opposite was all that occurred. It was so heavy that-

Something rubbed against my hunched over back. It was a comforting stroke of a hand. My breaths started to slow down its pace and my chest got lighter.

I hated silence and isolation. I hated confrontation of confusing ideals. I often got so lost in the thought that I would never understand myself or the world which would lead to me forgetting how to use the proper words to express how I felt.

I clenched my fists harder against my knees and tried to keep my breaths steady. His hand was so gentle and I knew that he was afraid to say something offensive and hurtful.

"T-thank you," I muttered, trying to get a hold of breathing properly.

Only a few minutes passed before I was able to gather the courage to push my knees away from my face.

You cry too much. My inner voice was really harsh.

But it's okay to cry, I told myself.

It was the comfort of the boy's gentle strokes on my back that made me reassure myself that everything would be okay.

"Wow, I'm really sorry for breaking down like that." I forced a chuckle. "Must've been how my grandma writes her damn letters."

"I understand," he said. "I can't stay here any longer, but I have a few more things for you."

I noticed that his cloak was opened in the front, revealing his dark green leather tunic and brown trousers. He wore a brown belt with a pouch attached in which he took and pulled the string that held it closed. The pouch opened onto his hand as a white cloth with what looked like bits of tiny bread rolls with powdered sugar on top.

The more I looked at it, the more it reminded me of a Dunkin' Donuts munchkin. It reminded me of home.

The boy moved his hand closer to my face as if offering. "What is it?" I asked.

"They're called elven dough bits."

My eyes widened and my mouth watered. This was on the menu from the cafe earlier today that I never got to try.

I picked one up and plopped it in my mouth. The taste was immaculate; it was nothing like a Dunkin Donut's munchkin or bread rolls with powder. It was soft and creamy on the inside, and had such an indescribable taste.

Nothing could compare to this dish, and suddenly I felt as if my worries were gone. It was like my tongue danced on a fluffy cloud in the heavens.

"The thing about the dough is that it makes you feel somewhat happy," he stated.