Changers

10. Green-Eyes

 I was glad to have the day to myself and away from everyone. And because everyone was busy until the evening, I finally had the opportunity to conduct some in-depth, hard-hitting research on my own.

I scanned the pocket watch Luis had given me for any potential clues to guide my search. I opened the cover again, touched its cold surface, and toyed with the chain, testing it. Nothing happened.

The watch was a gift from him to me in the 19th century. I was a Russian princess and he was my mother's servant. He said we found each other in childhood and instantly became best friends. Later, our paths would intertwine once we became secret lovers. Our past lives together followed the same tale as our current ones: upon meeting me, Luis instantly remembered our past, our union, and our previous deaths while I later found out from his retelling. We were teenagers, but he had said that the life we led in Russia before the civil war was by far the cruelest of all.

Just before we had died in a house fire together, he took out the watch that he crafted for me. He told me that he had used all his rubles to make it. I asked him what I did with it, which led him to laugh: "You threw it back at me," he told me, hugging me underneath the warm sheets. "You said you didn't need it. You said we would find each other regardless, that you couldn't accept a mere watch for my presence, and that we'd find a way to break our fate and be together. Resolute."

Luis also mentioned that it was our most recent rebirth, apart from our current one. "And," he continued, "I put the watch over my head as we died together. It stayed with me. My mother gifted it to me when I turned seven in this world. It was an heirloom from a great grandfather of mine who died in a fire. Myself."

I grazed my thumb over the watch and turned on my laptop. I put the watch aside and directed the screen to the Google homepage.

I typed "twin flames" into the search engine. "Twin flames in Paradise" was the first link: an ad for Tampa tourism. The second was a fanfiction dedicated to Hermione and Draco Malfoy: irrelevant, albeit interesting. I bookmarked it for late nights and kept skimming. The next few links led to mystical articles I found on a fantasy blog.

I scrolled through a few more pages before deciding I wouldn't find any substantial information on the internet. I'd have to find my answers elsewhere, somewhere where I could find books older than the internet. The past would somehow show me the future and give me the answers I searched for. Plus, the homemade brownies they sold at the library were sponges of pure comfort food.

Before I closed the computer, my eyes caught an ad tightly placed in the top right corner of the screen that I hadn't noticed before:

Visit Mrs. Director in your area for palm readings, channeling, and clairvoyance. Find out today what you can know about tomorrow and yesterday.

Nothing about the ad really stood out apart from its purple text. But after closer inspection, even the purple text was in a regular font and nothing special. I took a picture of the ad with my phone and left for the library.

The local library is of medium size and it houses nothing spectacular apart from its noteworthy windows. They hang over the two main revolving doors that span from the ceiling all the way to the roof. The interior of the library was built in a modern style with industrial stainless-steel handrails and bathrooms tiled with terracotta.

I bought a sea salt brownie and ascended the stairs to the fourth floor instead of taking the elevator to offset my purchase. The first floor was populated with children's books and, naturally, children. The second floor harboured young adult fiction, while the third and fourth floors were home to adult literature, biographies, non-fiction books, catalogues, and encyclopedias.