Tale of the Gifted Beings

chapter 4

chapter 4

THE AIR WAS RAW with the smell of discarded trash and darkened smoke, stirring the very essence of Perthlochry. I found myself standing in front of my broken mirror, my brown eyes reflecting the anticipation of the day ahead.

Mamori and her stepmother had moved to this very town just a few days prior, their advent were as surprising as the reacquaintance that had happened after. It was a weird unraveling of destiny that we had found each other again in the most unlikely of places — the police station. The memory of the surprise that had trailed through me, the doubt and then the happiness, still loitered like a soft echo in my thoughts.

It was such a small world indeed. Too small, perhaps, for such events to happen. Was that destined? Was that planned? I do not know.

I had come into Leo's office that day, my heart pounding like a drum against my ribcage, and there she was. Mamori. A face from my childhood, a link to a time of purity and laughter, standing in Leo's organized and sterile office. Today, however, was about a different kind of reunion.

I put on my faded denim jacket, the one with the straying edges and dull patches, as I tied my hair. The location Mamori had given me was tidily written on a piece of paper, the blue ink kind of smirched from being carried around in my pocket. I stared at it for a second, the anticipation sizzling up inside me like wine in a glass. As I walked out of my home, the world appeared to be holding its breath. The morning light staining everything in shades of pastel colors, the world still silent and hushed as it slowly woke up. The journey to Mamori's place was a quiet one, a lone walk emphasized by the early singing of birds and the faraway sound of cars and motorbikes.

I was almost there when I came in contact with a man wearing a shirt and faded blue jeans. I looked up and saw Leo, pinning up flyers on a lamppost, his eyebrow furrowed in attention. The flyers slithered from his hands, spreading on the pavement like fallen leaves during autumn. As I knelt down to help him get the papers, my eyes were pulled by the image of a young boy, his eyes blurry, his smile a distressing reminder of the tragedy at hand.

Logan Watson, 7, missing.

"Up to something again, Primmy?" Leo's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. Again with this terrible nickname.

His words held a tone of quip, a hint of shared camaraderie. I looked up at him, a faint smirk on my lips. But words fell flat on me. All I could do was stare at the flyer in my hand, the image of the boy staring back at me, his eyes innocent. I'm pretty sure I had seen this boy before. I was very certain of it. The newspaper clipping from a few days ago light up in my mind. A missing child. A mystery waiting to be solved. And now, a flyer in my hand.

"When did this boy went missing?" I asked.

Leo nonchalantly pinned three posters as he paced on top of a small ladder. "It's been two days since this boy was announced missing. Nobody knows where he went since the family contacted their relatives and friends, and were told that they didn't see the poor boy."

I intently looked at the boy in the poster. His eyes glimmered with innocence, and smile that was warm. Leo sighed as he looked at me, concern etching across his face. "Where are you off to by the way?"

I looked at him, shaking my head out of my reverie. "To Mamori's."

"So the two of you hang out again, huh?" he said. "Have you told her about the wallet?"