2 A dedication. Part 2.

"He is a black-apple user," the parrot said, waving his tiny head from left to right. "And so am I, and if you don't want that big nose of yours to swell up even more then… buckle off."

Sany grabbed the man's hand and pulled him away toward the entrance of the Inn. The boy said nothing. He simply turned his hand normal and started ascending a small staircase to the left of the reception desk where the old woman was sitting.

The short man's face had taken a color of dried, red chili pepper.

"I know… I know," Sany said, pitching her voice as low as she could, "but you need to calm down and listen to me—"

"Do you think my nose is that big?" the man asked.

"Eh? That's what bothers you? I thought that toy was more important—"

"It is important but I'm kind of touchy about my nose," the man said.

"Oh… Don't worry Mister… Er, I don't think you told me your name?"

"Yes. Yes. I didn't. My name is Romonov. I'm a businessman."

"I'm Sany. Sany Kubo. I'm a writer."

Mr. Romonov nodded.

"You seriously want that toy?"

Mr. Romonov nodded again.

"Then don't worry," Sany smiled. "I have a plan."

***

The old woman gave her a key. "The room is on the second floor," she said, eyeing Sany suspiciously. Sany didn't know why was she garnering such fierce looks from a senior citizen. But she had her suspicion. It was because of the short man she was with.

"Okay," Sany said and turned toward Mr. Romonov. "I'll meet you tomorrow."

"Hopefully with that toy," Romonov said.

"Yes, don't worry about that." Sany gave him a reassuring smile.

A few minutes later, she found herself ascending a narrow staircase. She followed it, reached on the second floor which was nothing a but gloomy, narrow corridor. The air was cool, and the thick, red carpet damped her footfalls. She soon found her room but didn't enter. Fixing the straps of her violin case, she moved to the door beside it, raised her hand, balled it, and gently tapped it on the door.

"Who is it?" an old, muffled voice said, definitely not the guy she was looking for.

"Ehh…" Wrong door, crap! Sany thought.

"Who is it?" The footsteps started moving toward her.

Her mind started racing. "Do you owe someone some money?" she blurted.

"NO," the voice said, sounding a little bewildered.

"Then why are you still awake? Go to sleep," she said and hurried to the next door, her heart hammering in her chest. She repeated these lines for a while in front of several doors.

A few minutes went by.

She knocked again, meaning to give up on her endeavor. But luckily, she had hit the home-run this time.

"Hey someone just knocked," the parrot squeaked from behind the door.

She heard footsteps moving toward her. There was a click, and the door swung inward, and there he was, the boy with dark bangs over his brow, looking at her with his grey eyes. The red parrot zoomed out of nowhere and landed on his shoulder.

"Oh. Oh," there is a girl in front of our door. He whistled twice, for once acting like a parrot. "Oh, wait, she is the same witch who tried to steal my treasure."

"Can I come in?" Sany asked.

"No," the parrot said.

"What do you want?" the boy asked.

"I just want to come in and have a chat," Sany said.

"Don't be naive, Kon." The parrot shuffled on his shoulder, bobbing his head. "She wants to steal my treasure." He started flapping his wings.

"No," Sany muttered, giving the creature her trademark poker-face. "I'm being serious."

The boy gave her a blank look but moved backward just the same, allowing her in. The parrot flew off from his shoulder, and Sany watched him as he landed on the stuffed bunny figure. "I'll protect it till my last breath," the creature squeaked.

The room she was in now was small with one bed and night table. The walls were bare yellow, and a small fan was thumping overhead, sending down cool air. The boy sat down on the floor, and Sany followed his lead. "I never thought I would meet a black-apple user who is not in the military," she said. "By the way, can I know your name?"

"My grandma named me Suzuki Kon," the boy said. "But I only prefer Kon…"

"That's because it's the only word he can write without making any mistakes," the parrot said from the top of the bunny.

Kon's face went pink, and he shot a deadly look in direction of the little creature. "And that fellow over there," he said, "is my best friend. His name his Mr. Peru."

"No, no." Mr. Peru flapped his scarlet wings. "Tell her my complete name. It's Peruapupapumpumperu."

"Yes. Yes." Kon nodded. "Yes, his real name is Peruapupapumpumperu. Don't ask me the spelling."

Sany smiled while a comical sweat drop slid down her brow. What in the world I'm doing with these people? She thought. "Well, my name is Sany Kubo. I'm a writer."

"Writer?" the boy looked at her as if she were an angel who had landed from heaven. "Do you write adult novels?"

She gave him a close-eyed smile. Do I look like a person who would write those kinds of books? "No, I don't—"

"So what kind of books do you write?"

"Er… I haven't written any books yet," Sany said.

"And yet you call yourself a writer," Mr. Peru said, guffawing. "Shame on you. Shame on you." He started flapping his wings.

If looking at someone with your deadly eyes would have poisoned them, then that little parrot would have died nanoseconds ago. Sany wanted to squeeze the creature's neck, wrung it, but she kept her cool. "You don't have to write a book to become a writer," she said, faking a smile. "Just simply putting a pen to a paper… Just simply writing a few words a day can make you a writer."

Kon scratched his head. "I try to write my name every day. Does that make me a writer?"

"Ehh…" Sany sat there, as silent as a sleeping, old turtle. While, inside her head, the other Sany, the Sany who went berserk easily, was rapidly banging her violin on the floor. "Yes, it does. I guess."

"Wow," Kon said, "I didn't know I had that in me. Wow."

"We can talk about these things some other day," Sany said, "Now, can we talk about that toy."

"SEE. SHE WANTS IT BACK." Mr. Peru lifted the toy and started flying around the room. "I"m not giving it back."

"But you will have to," Sany said. "That toy belongs to a little, ill girl." Finally, It was time for her to spin her yarn, put her writing shoes on and spool out a story.

"What do you mean?" Kon folded his legs.

Sany took a deep breath and started doing her magic with the words. The story she told them was very touching. She knew this because even Mr. Peru had stopped flying around and had seated himself with the toy beside Kon.

"So it actually belongs to a little, blind, deaf girl on a wheelchair?" Kon asked. "And that man with the big nose is her father."

Sany nodded, slowly.

"If that is so…" Mr. Peru said, "then how did it end up inside that shop, huh?"

"Er…" Sany started thinking. "I don't know that. I just bought it from there—and bought it by accident. I had no intentions of buying it. You see, I'm very terrible with money. Just like my mom."

"Oh," Kon said, "So your mother also randomly brings home stuffed figures."

"No," Sany said, and suddenly sadness started filling her heart. "She never brought toys in our house." She only brought a used piano, Sany told herself in her mind; a used piano and lots of drugs.

And before she knew it, Sany Kubo was drifting away from the shore of the present, floating toward an island that represented that unlucky month in which she lost the queen of her life.

Lost her because of that goddamn black-apple.