A MAN WITH NO HOME
Tell me, sweet stranger, do you know the story of Normant Lumensky, the man from a mystical land universes away from Earth? Making an ark out of his chains, he turns from a prisoner of war into a fugitive.
A WOMAN AGAINST THE WOR...
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I WAS A MESS.
And so was my sleep. Drenched in sweat, I woke up from yet another dream—or better nightmare—of me being in Josh's arms. It started with lust and hope, promises of salvation. It went on with Amanda appearing out of nowhere and taking him away from me. It ended with a challenge: bring me the Celestial Crystal, and I will bring Josh back to you.
Again and again. She visited me in hotel rooms and in my bedroom back at Normant's house. She was always there, sneaking in my dreams through the cracks in my heart.
I brought the bedsheet over my body, hiding in it because I just could not face the world. Not now. Not yet.
I lay in bed and noticed. While the rest of Normant's place was brim with paintings, frames with sayings on the walls, academic books and nice pillows, I had kept my room empty—except for the bed. I had thought that if I never rooted here, it would be easier to leave once the chance arrived. Yet the days passed and the minimalistic room instead of providing me with a deep sense of peace only made me feel like I was going insane. Maybe I was.
Sunlight was coming in through the shutters, gentle and silver, which meant that the night was over. I could get up, do something productive, start off my day early and spend the morning with my thoughts. This world had come up with so many solutions and remedies that I had started feeling puzzled for staying in my misery for way too long—always according to its standards. I should probably remind myself that I was only a breath away from a brand-new life, one endowed with endless opportunities and light. But why would I be thrilled about the multitude of choices when none of them thrilled me?
A buzzing sound. I was out of bed in an instant, grabbing my phone from the nightstand.
Normant.
"What is it?" I asked, yawning.
His voice was loud. "I need you to come at Jasmine's place, like . . . right now."
I got up from the bed, deciding to head downstairs to get myself something to eat. "I'm tired," I replied.
"It's important," he added with an exhale of breath.
"And I said I was tired."
My words were breaking him, like I was tearing him apart each time I made his life more difficult than it needed to be; each time I refused to go to the grocery store even though I knew he could not get in there; each time he tried to talk to me about anything else but the Gap World and I walked away; each time he wanted us to watch a movie but I chose my loneliness over him. I knew it by the silence that followed my words, the calm before the storm. I could not keep doing that to him.
"Fine," I huffed. "Send me the address."
"Thank you."
He always said that. But I had never thanked him for all that he had done to ensure we could survive in this mad world. In a few days, he would go to Greece to find the Celestial Crystal—the crystal I needed—while I would be in the comfort of his house. Maybe I was the knave after all. For he valued our friendship, and I valued a dying love affair.
