A Letter Away From You

Chapter 11

Maple trees produce pollen that bees utilize to maintain their own ecosystem. The florally sweet dust are a chef's choice in the menus of these honey-making insects.

On the other hand, pollen is essential to trees as to what sperm is to mankind, for the essence of reproduction.

Why does this world base itself on a come-and-go principle? That something has to fade in order for some other thing to live on.

Take rain for example. This incessant cycle of collection, evaporation, condensation, and precipitation never fails to fascinate my wits. You'd think that after all the hard work the balls of vapor above us is squeezing, all of it would just be over?

No. The water droplets get toiled back into shape as the recycling system of the overall process turns it into the same rain.

At this point, I can say I've read too many science books. Add those National Geographic episodes that I doze off after a few minutes, to the list.

It's been two days since that doomed day. Adjusting my focus to writing my books was doing fine at first, but lines that were supposed to enlighten the readers maneuvered to sentences with no value at all. It was haunting me from head to toe. I've lost my touch.

"Can we talk now?" Mom's tone scratched the peaceful ambiance I've been building inside. You did nothing when I was there breaking down by myself.

Her presence is the very last thing I'd want to see in this moment. "Please understand Faye, this isn't only hurting you."

The tragedy that has fallen upon us brought hassle with it. Even in the span of my own room, I could approximate at least 4 knocks from our front door every day. With each knock, a pointless conversation was held with my mother. With every knock, my mother slams my door hoping to make amends.

I don't need her.

I don't need her.

I don't need her.

But do I even ask if she needs me? Too selfish to empathize, I simply ignored the cries of my own mother.

"Dinner's out here if you're hungry." Mom softened her tone, even more than before. She was growing tired of my attitude. "I hope you're still taking showers there, dear." As I hear each thud she's making, compassing out of the area.

My usual routine includes eating, showering, studying, writing, and my free time comprises surfing the limits of the internet. Now that two out of the five are already done, I guess I'll spend my leisure time over work and eating since my belly's not yet complaining.

When does her new album come out? Love Story's tickling my ears for quite a time now already. Please, may the God of Taylor Swift bless her with a broken heart to produce another hit single.

I chuckled a bit, seeing some hilarious pictures on this site always marks a surprise on me. A cat swinging around naked with dazzling headphones on. It takes little enough to giggle a ten-year-old.

Scrolling through the endless pit of the internet, I find myself clicking a rather interesting website posted on the "Visit for the Day" section.

Search Mate. I interpreted the words doused in a bold font. Too fancy for a name, I might say. Well, it doesn't hurt to try some things new, right?

My innocent soul pressed the button which redirected me to a page so minimalistic for the trends of the year. It was unusual to see valiant colors compared to the floral and glowing ones decorating the top sites right now.

Snuggling from a laid-back position to a cozy sitting pose, I explored the peculiar options the site had in store. A login button, a register, and a settings one, your typical social media starters. However, what hooked me in was the description they presented in big sizes in front of the blog.

Search for someone to talk to, someone to have fun with, a mate that can fill all the purpose in your life.

How brave of them to set expectations for those people longing for someone in their life. I don't need someone, I didn't even need my mom. So why am I lingering around on this useless website? Were my first thoughts. But I've lived long enough to know that last thoughts matter than your firsts almost eighty percent of the time. So now, I'll just let my hunch lead me.

Here we go, clicking register. God knows how fast I am in these types of races if ever keyboard typing had one. The tiny keys in my new and gifted laptop acted as an extension for my hands. I grew out of the old-fashioned handwriting to compose my books, but still, my penmanship is in a league of its own.

So far, so good. The interface is killing me with its details, almost like it's out of this world technology. This new feature that enables users to avoid inconvenience by saving their passwords works just like a charm. Although this might have been already an old property of the new computers.

Search for a mate.

Do I click on this and change my whole life? Will it even help me vent out some of the emotions I've been storing for some time now?

The gusts from the air-conditioned room I luckily had as a ten-year-old kid, breezed the tips of my fingers to press on the search button. Well, it did.

I brushed off my sweat as one of my pet peeves has appeared: waiting for the circular loop doing its thing loading the whole website. My eagerness sometimes disables my patience, the characteristic that I certainly have more than enough. It takes a lot to chip it off, but I'm just a normal human being so it happens sometimes.

Seconds have passed, but still no sign of the site working.

Internet service?

Slow ram?

Or is this site a phishing scam?

Scams these days have such beautiful headdress clothing them. Just as I was about to exit the page and shut off the computer, a sound proceeded from the corners of the computer, its speaker. I debated myself over the sound of it being ding or cling. Not that quite sure. I hurriedly unsheathed the system to find out the answer to whether this site held mischief.

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