Afraid of Falling - Logince & Logicality

Chapter Ten

The house had completely changed. Roman's Mustang had been sold. Any and all pictures of him had been stored deep in my basement. And Disney movies and Broadway soundtracks had been deleted Now the only thing left was the ghost of a forgotten memory.

However, without Roman, life wasn't particularly exciting. Quite the opposite. Every morning, I woke up to the same boring bedroom, ate the same boring breakfast, and drove the same boring route to work. I was desperately in need of a new hobby. And so, on the morning of February the Ninth, I began looking.

My first activity was pottery. I drove to a small pottery studio a few blocks away and parked my car, looking surreptitiously up at the building. Taking a deep breath, I entered. Wheels were off to the left and several tables and chairs were set up around the room with some twenty adults, looking to be about my age, going through a middle-age crisis. Two large heavy duty sinks were ahead of me, blocked by a middle-aged woman with frizzy red hair and pale skin. I cleared my throat awkwardly, and she turned. A face lined with wrinkles but with bright blue eyes peered at me.

"Hi! My name is Ms. Lotus, the pottery teacher. And you are?"

"Um, Logan? Logan Sanders."

"Ah yes, I was expecting you. Well hurry on, you will be sitting next to Mr. Sanders over there, ah! How fun, two with the same last name!" Ms. Lotus exclaimed, pointing to my right. My heart jumped, but it couldn't be Roman, he was dead. I turned to look in her direction, not daring to believe. My heart fell. It was not Roman, of course.

You idiot, Logan. Roman is DEAD. He's not coming back, so get over it. Forget. Him, I told myself. The third "Mr. Sanders" had looked up at the sound of his name. His hair was a little askew and his Warby-Parker's glasses were spattered with clay. Freckles dotted his face and a grey cardigan was tied around his shoulders. With a friendly smile, he patted the seat beside him.

"Hi, I'm Logan Sanders," I said offering my hand. His eyes widened in surprise before he shook it.

"Sanders! Well, ain't that coinkydink! My last name is also Sanders. Patton Sanders to be specific," the young man said with a goofy smile. I was slightly taken aback by his childish personality, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was... refreshing. I smiled back and then tuned into what the teacher was saying.

"Alright class, take a small mound of clay and place it on the table in front of you. Today, we're going to make a mug! So roll out your clay like so," Ms. Lotus said demonstrating. I dutifully followed her instructions and at the end of the class, I had a relatively decent mug.

I brought it over to the tray where we were supposed to put them, but on my way over, I suddenly lurched forward. With a sickening crack, I felt my mug shatter beneath me, and worse, I hurtled into the shelves of old pottery. Various crashes sounded around me as they fell to the floor, smashing to bits. As the cloud of white dust settled, I was given a look at the carnage I had caused.

Bits of glazed pottery lay in pieces mixed in with the dirt on the floor. I gasped and turned to Ms. Lotus. She stood staring in shock, the dust caught in her flaming red hair.

"I am so sorry, I can pay for the damage," I offered but was silenced with a hand.

"I think it's better if you leave Mr. Sanders," she said quietly. I nodded and gathered my things. As I left, Patton flashed a sympathetic smile and a wave. I returned it and closed the door behind me.

"I cannot believe I just did that," I said, exasperatedly running a hand through my hair. I checked my watch and saw it was only noon. What was I going to do for the rest of the day? I settled for going on a walk around town. As I walked in the chilled February air, the public library caught my eye. It was new and I had never been before.

I pushed the door open and warm air rushed at me. As I entered, I got my first proper look at the library. Spiraling staircases went off in all directions and books covered every wall and table. Off to my right was a large technology section with top-notch computers and to the left was loads of tables and chairs and beanbags where several people were sprawled upon, furiously writing or typing. Directly in front of me was a large pane of glass from top to bottom, giving the whole library an airy feel.

I strolled amongst the bookshelves, feeling an odd sense of comfort and familiarity as my hand grazed the stiff or worn spines of thousands of books. An entire world sat within the pages of each of these books. I was walking amongst the pages of genius where I could learn the inner workings of everything.

As I continued wandering, I found a secluded armchair wedged between two large bookshelves with a table and a lamp.

Perfect, I thought. I sat down and sank into the plush fabric. I reached across to a bookshelf and picked out a book at random. Astronomy, huh? I cracked it open, reveling in the sound of a new spine being broken in. I started reading it and was immediately hooked, learning about cosmic inventions and revelations. I read until I turned the very last page, and when I finally looked up, the last golden rays of sunlight were illuminating the glowing titles of books.

It was an intriguing experience, getting a chance to learn about the world I thought I knew so well. Knowledge was predictable, unlike tragic accidents like an accidental fire. I decided I liked knowledge. With that, I placed the book on the shelf and left the library.

I'll most definitely be back. I drove home, a satisfied smile on my face. As I pulled in, my phone started ringing, I picked it up and heard Thomas's cheery voice on the other end.

"Hi, Logan! How was pottery?" He asked. I laughed and told him the story, about how I had met a third "Sanders" and how I had tripped and destroyed loads of pots, and ended up going to the library and learning about Astronomy. Thomas was shocked about the pots but we were able to laugh about it.

"Wow sounds like a great day!" I agreed and we talked idly about the newest updates in the news. And then, Thomas asked the question I was dreading. "So, how are you doing without Roman?" I froze and felt a pain in my chest I hadn't felt since the funeral. I waited, silent, until the crack in my heart sealed itself with a hushed whisper.

"I'm fine," I said curtly. "I have work to do."