Crafted by angels - Chapter 5

One foot after another, as heavy as they were, he finally made it to his room. The door wasn’t locked. He cautiously opened it, knowing the others were probably asleep. It was late, and when they had arrived, he and his cousin were really tired. The lights were off. As the light from the hallway entered his room, he glanced at his cousin who turned on his bed. The cousin was in deep slumber.

 

He kicked off his shoes and sat on his bed. With a sigh he placed his charger into the nearby socket and took out his wallet and phone. Phone plugged into the charger, he eyes the wallet. He opens it, and within was a little note she had given him. She says she gives them to people she meets along the way. There was a sticker on it. Childish; as was she. Colorful; also as was she. He couldn’t help but smiling. He turned the note over. She had written something behind it. The note she had made before-hand, but what she scribbled behind; that was meant for him. What was it?

 

He lay down. His eyes felt very heavy, but somehow there was an unsettling feeling stirring within.

 

Aha! I forgot to brush my teeth.

 

He commanded himself to get up. Teeth must be brushed before sleep. Bad things happen to those who do not brush their teeth before sleep. Thing like cavities and toothaches. He did not like toothaches. He softly closed his eyes.

 

He took a deep breath. Slowly he got up, trudged to his bag, got the toothbrush and toothpaste, trudged to the door, opened the door, went to the toilet, brushed his teeth, and went back to his room.

 

Then he opened his eyes. He hadn’t moved an inch. Teeth were not yet brushed. It was in these moments he wished he could have a small fairy that would transport his teeth to be brushed thoroughly and then returned to him immediately. But there was no fairy, and he was a grown man. He sat up. There was something in his hands. It was the note. He carefully placed it on the window ledge next to his bed. No, that won’t do. He moved it to his pillow.

 Resenting the cold floors, he trudged across them to get his toothbrush and toothpaste. He got up, and the toothpaste fell to the floor. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and picked it up.

 

 

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She turned on her phone’s flashlight as she entered. She knew she was screwed. She hadn’t packed and her train was bound to leave in three hours. She could catch other trains, but she had already told the reception that she would be leaving early the next day. She tried to pack, but the ziplock bags made quite a ruckus. She decided to haul everything to the hall the next morning and do her packing there. She grabbed her toiletries bag, hopped to the toilet, slipped into bed, and was in deep slumber in a few minutes.

 

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He returned to his room. He was exhausted, but there was still this unsettled feeling in him. He closed his eyes. Her twinkling eyes came into his thoughts. He would never see her again. Never see the crinkle of her nose, the smile that made him shift in his seat, the gaze that never stayed in place for more than a second. And her voice. Oh, her voice. How she moved and spoke with her whole being. So animated. So alive. And he would never see her again.

 

The note.

 

He shot up. She had said something about finding her. He looked at the note. There was nothing but a phrase, a saying. Then his groggy mind remembered. He turned it over. A smile crept on his face, lit up by his phone which he had brought into his hand. It was far-fetched, and maybe she would refuse, but it was worth a shot. She was worth the shot.

 

He typed away, and pressed send.

 

She was still going to leave in the morning; that he knew. But perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way they could meet again.

 

And with that thought, he fell into a deep sleep. He was careful not to sleep on his back, for he knew it sometimes made him snore. That would be rude to the other people. He did not want that.