12 Into his warmth, I long for his presence.

ALICE

We ate in silence. Thrice, I caught the boy giving sideway glances at me. Curiosity dance in his eyes. I took a mouthful bite of the chicken. Hunger is overtaking my soul. I stuff two rice cups in my mouth. Swallowed it all in one gulp.

He’s still studying me.

I hasten my teeth to chew. Taking advantage of his almost entranced state to eat his share. Directly opposite us, the groundkeeper chuckled. His snow caked hair is moistening. I fetch the towel he hang in my chair and wipe it for him.

“My, thank you.” Groundkeeper flash me his warm crooked smile. I urged my cheeks to stretch. Return his smile and the warmness it brings in my heart.

Failed.

I tried again.

Failed.

The boy must have detected my effort. He takes hold of my hand. Forcedly slip his fingers on me and squeezed.

I froze. Completely petrified in my chair. Medusa caught me staring at her paradox gaze. My head mechanically whirred to the boy’s direction. He noticed me staring. His index finger caressed the knuckle in my middle finger. I can’t figure out what he’s trying to do.

Butterflies catch strength and fly in masses inside my stomach. Like a new life source has sprinkled in my limbs, everything in me reared back to life.

I can’t tore my eyes from his gaze. I feel naked, exposed, my darkest secret revealed at this two pair of sapphire gem. Staring at his perfect shade of electric blue eyes, so calm, so clear, so deep and dangerous to get close to.

“Where are you going after this?” he asked.

There’s a new enstrange emotion I detect in his voice. For once so cold, so eerily empty, his tone has taken shape of the usual vibrato normal people use. A lingering imprint of his soul settled itself on his words.

And I come undone under his touch.

“The snow has slowly calmed down. If you’re going to leave, might as well leave as early as after we take our meal.” The groundkeeper murmured.

I turn sharply at him. His expression, his suggestion, he makes it sound obvious me and this boy will leave the graveyard together.

“I’m going back to our place.” I answered the boy’s question.

“Our place?” His grip involuntarily tighten in my hand. I ignored it.

“Apartment. I – I was save by Kenneth when I was left to die by the river. He took me to his home, feed me, gave me shelter for two years. But he’s gone now. He doesn’t have parents or siblings. If it’s any consolation, he left his savings, lease, and any other properties he owned to me.” I said matter of factly.

Not bothering to look at the expression they’re wearing now. Could be a lot. Blank, interested, greed, anything. The strings will reveal it to me. No need to discern what they think. Because not knowing is better than finding out they pity me.

“Then, can I live with you?” the boy asked hopefully. I’m struck by his sudden hundred eighty degree personality change. He ignored me just this morning. He’s mistrustful and can slit my throat without any notice. He’s mocking and full of abhorrence towards me.

Where did all those negative feelings go?

I look deep into his small frame. Trying to extract his strings. Trying to identify what he’s feeling in this moment. What brought this change in him.

I found nothing.

I look again. My fingers has almost squeezed the blood out of his palm. He didn’t react. He did not seem bothered by the change of force I exerted.

Still, I found nothing.

“You can.” I slowly said. Sounding unsure. Not because I don’t want another stranger sharing room with me, I just… can’t figure him out. His existence, I’m sure is more unusual than my family bearing strings power.

No person ever lived without strings on their being. All people are connected. No exemption. That’s what my Aunt told me all the time. Now I found that exemption. I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or bad.

For the next thirty minutes we stay silent. In the middle of preparing for departure, the groundkeeper told us to wait. He asked where I live. I told him in a small apartment at Boston. His mouth fell open.

Boston is four hours drive away from this small town. He said we can’t live without money for fare, extra clothes and other amenities for the trip. I told him it’s okay. We can manage. He insists.

So we’re forced to wait for his return. Again. I didn’t mind. I sat by the cabin window. The boy joined me. We didn’t talk. I can feel his breath on the rim of my shoulder sleeve. Few minutes later and his head fell on my arm. He’s sound asleep.

I try not to twitch. I try not to breath. It was hard. I watch the white sheets of uneven snow floor covering the grass. The cold is stiffer than usual. More unwelcoming. But I still prefer this.

I prefer the cold than heat. I prefer the rain than sun. I prefer the December frost than January spring. I find comfort watching the endless white scenery of chilled trees than the artistic color of middle summer.

Spring doesn’t understand how empty it feels, watching children happily playing in parks. How torturous it is, observing families eating and bonding at picnics. Knowing you can never get a share of their bliss. Knowing you don’t deserve to crave that kind of happiness.

I hate watching the snow melted along the sun’s heat. As if erasing any dirty traces of frost in the world, replacing it with unforgiving heat. Offering momentarily bliss to ignorant people…then began to torture them in its blistering dominance.

I….

I spent years wanting to bask myself with the sun’s warmth. I always pray at night to give me at least a one in a million chance to make me feel the glimmer of hope in my limbs. The sun rays kissing my skin. I just want to feel something. I just want to feel human.

I prayed. I prayed. And prayed. I wish for sun to never leave my line of vision. To keep me company to my grey solitary room. Yet, it disappears when the night came. Leaving me by myself. To my own monster in my head.

The sun… the sun is just like Kenneth. He was my bliss. My symbol of warmth. My epitome of hope. But he leaves me just the same. He abandons me just when I need him the most.