A LOST BEAR

Thursday Sept 17th, 113 days before 18th Birthday

The thump of something heavy hitting the floor pulls my attention away from the words in front of me.

That's a big bag.

I wonder what's in it.

It looks very full.

And heavy.

"Sorry dude, didn't mean to startle ya. My Pops had to use my truck today and I've got practice tonight, so I've had to luge my gear around. What a pain in the ass that's been let me tell ya. I should have picked a sport with less equipment, but I love hockey ya know."
I nod.

Because I think I understand.

I love books.

Actual books.

Not the digital things Indy keeps trying to get me to try.

Real books, with real pages, made from real paper.

Those get heavy.

Especially the big old ones.

I take a sip of my tea and my nose automatically wrinkles.

I hate drinking from a paper cup.

"Coffee no good? Is it one of those over sweetened, crazy concoctions that's more name than flavor and costs way more than coffee should cost?"

I shake my head, a small smile twitching at my lips.

That was funny.

"It's tea. Darjeeling is better in a proper cup."

"Oh, I guess that makes sense. Proper cup like a mug or do you mean more of a porcelain teacup?"

"Proper tea belongs in a proper teacup. Not a mug and definitely not a paper cup?"

He chuckles.

I'm a little surprised.

Not so much that he chuckled but at how easily it was for me to say what I was thinking.

I didn't even think about it.

I just talked.

That only happens with Indy.

"Your book looks different today. Did you finish the other one from yesterday? It didn't seem like you were that far."

I look at the book in my lap. It is a new one.

Nuka sits in the chair next to me this time.

He's leaning over to look at my book.

He's very close.

He smells really nice.

Like apples and cinnamon.

It's a warm smell.

Like cider or pie.

I love apple pie and cider.

"Is that Russian? You can read Russian? Do you speak it too?"

I'm reading Tatyana Tolstaya's "The Slynx" so of course it's in Russian.

"I don't like translations; you always lose some of the words true essence."

"So.... How many languages do you know?"

I shrug, "languages are easy, I just seem to understand them."

That sounds like I'm bragging.

I don't mean to.

This is why I don't talk.