"Mel, are you okay?"
The burly young boy heard the question that he had heard maybe hundreds of times in two days. But somehow, he didn't seem angry. While she didn't budge on Kristin Mel's strange recovery, she was adamant about at least resting next to him in the shop for two days.
"I said I'm fine, Nalt!"
Getting up from his bed and moving into the selling part of the shop, Mel replied while looking at his friends lined up across from him.
"We came but couldn't get in. We couldn't get past the guards at the door and were thrown back into the crowd!"
Speaking on behalf of the nine young people standing behind him, the crook-haired Nalt could not lift his gaze up. He had been stiffened until Mel put his hand on his shoulder. He was ashamed, embarrassed that they could not be there for him in his most difficult time, but what he would soon hear would lift the weight in their hearts.