Hello.

  I thought that maybe, thinking of myself as a novel character would help me be less forgetful and understand things better, and I would like to ask you to help me. Of course you don't have to, and you also are not obligated to stay. But you’re still here. So let's get into it.

  Oh but don't worry, we'll start slow. Let's wake her up, shall we?

  ~~~

  I wake up and the first thing I see is the ceiling. The scent of pine wood tickles my senses awake.

  Ah, excuse me... this isn't exactly what I had in mind for the style of this piece of fiction, I apologize! Can we try something different?

  > ( What did you have in mind? )

  Less of having somebody inside my thoughts that has a conversation with me, more of an... otho… auto… Authorial narrator? Like that.

  > ( I have no idea what you're trying to tell me... )

  Try to think of it like...

  She wakes up. The ceiling still looks like the day it did before. She sits up in her bed and reaches towards the drawer of her bedside table, things as such! You know, some distance and all... we barely know each other after all!

  > ( But all of this is about you, it is in your head after all. Additionally I am but a mere reader, not an author... )

  You're right. Hm… in that case, let's just see how it goes, what we feel like going for. I hope you don't mind any minor inconsistencies! If so, it's never too te to stop reading.

  But you're still here now, aren't you?

  Thank you. I know I am rather complicated at times.

  I have been very confused during the st couple of months. It's hard to decipher what is real outside of the haziness of my own mind, what is actually happening and what isn't just solely visible to me or inside my head. People can't rete to me much, they think I don't act appropriately to my condition. I don't sm my head against the walls enough, I don't have a lot of inconsistent bbber, I don't fil my limbs or wear hats made of tinfoil.

  But they only think that way because I don't talk. Nothing that comes out of my mouth actually makes sense.

  That's why I prefer to communicate with you through my thoughts, rather than words. Additionally, if I kept talking to you out on the streets, it would distract other people! They might think I would be talking to them when I'm not, or they just don't like to hear other people talk, and I would be the one causing them a minor inconvenience. Some of them put little sea urchins into their ears to block out the noises outside. Maybe the sounds mix into strange melodies for them as well sometimes?

  Anyways, because nobody understands me I decided to just seal my mouth with my magic.

  > ( You sealed your mouth with magic? )

  Yes! Do you not know about magic?

  > ( I don't think so... Can you please expin? )

  Of course! I will try my best.

  Uh… please bear with me.

  > ( Hey, take all the time you need. You have my attention. )

  Thank you, at least you don't get mad at me because I'm slow.

  And that's really just because you are in my head. But at least I know that.

  Thank you anyways. At least here, I am safe.

  > ( ... )

  Magic is real but rare. You only know of its full extent if you're capable of using it. If you aren't, which is I think the bigger half of the civilization here on Selsiol, magic is something that's commonly smiled upon, in a good but kind of bittersweet way. Magic wielders are called Magi while non-magic wielders are called Nulls, respectively, speaking in this foreign nguage called Science.

  Nowadays, Magi only use their powers in tournaments or specifically designed magic shows to showcase the graceful power we can bear thanks to the powers granted from beyond the veil of consciousness.

  At least that's what we want Nulls to believe.

  > ( But what about you in particur? )

  All I know is that I was born being able to seal things away, and I haven't heard of anybody who is capable of simir things.

  I hammered it into every avaible Seeker’sRoot on the Rootweb, into every library's burrow I could find, but no records that were avaible to the public. Not even childrens books or any fantasy novels grandmas get their teenage children although they are way past the age of the target audience.

  > ( Now that sounds oddly specific. )

  Doesn't it? I bet this has happened to at least somebody out there.

  > ( ... )

  Oh, Magic, right.

  So, many years ago, I think throughout the Busoi-period, whatever that means, I never quite understood when one period ends and another one starts, but I digress; a lot of incidents of dark creatures attacking mankind had gathered all across the globe. They are born from the darkest shadows at the darkest hour of night, and they feed on dreams to grub their way to the source of magic. But I'm not sure what that is, or if it's true in the first pce. I'm not even sure what I just expined to you, I didn't even know any of this myself!

  > ( You do! That's my ability, I have access to some parts of your brain you might ck the access to at the moment! I'm sure I can remind you of things, should you need it. So I might be partially authoritative. But how am I supposed to know things that neither of us know?)

  True. I hope I managed to expin it well to you. You're already being a great help.

  > ( I'm happy to hear this is working for you! )

  I hope it keeps working for us! Either way, look at us. I'm still sitting in bed…

  > ( In that case you should get up for some breakfast. How te is it anyway? )

  I wish I knew, the only clock in my room is my arm clock that has been broken since second grade. Ever since that I have relied on Dad to wake me up.

  > ( Maybe your Dad is downstairs waiting for you at the table? )

  ...Dad isn't here, sorry.

  I sloppily make my way away from my cozy and warm bnket kingdom.

  I walk to the window and reach for the strap next to it to pull up the rouleau.

  Everything is tinged in a dark shade of crystal teal, slowly fading into a soft yellow at the end of the horizon.

  I stare at the sunrise until my eyes start to melt.

  > ( Hey, you're drifting off! )

  Oh! My apologies. Of course, you must be hungry. Let's prepare something to eat.

  I walk out of my room into the dimly lit corridor, dragging my feet across the soft carpet floor towards the stairs that I proceed to descend.

  They aren't cold, they are made of wood and smell nice, but with every step they make a creaking sound, and I have to admit that sometimes, I'm scared that they will break under my weight soon. Not like there was much weight.

  But now you're here too, so try to not break the stairs, okay? It's only used to my weight, not both of ours. But I think it will be okay. It usually doesn't bite either, so you are safe to follow me.

  > ( Hey, don't forget to brush your teeth! Humphrey says it's important. )

  I didn't forget, I just think that it makes more sense to brush my teeth after eating something rather than before having a meal.

  > ( Yeah, but once you've finished eating you will forget about doing it! )

  That's what I have you for after all, don't I?

  > ( True. Okay, let's get something to eat. )

  ~~~

  Once reaching downstairs, I head toward the kitchen. I check the shelves and prepare the circur wooden table with two ptes, two cups and silverware on each side.

  > ( Who is the second pte for, are we expecting somebody? )

  Well, Humphrey usually comes around ter this hour, but honestly, I'd like to have you sit with me first. Humphrey will probably sulk a little if I eat before he arrives. But we can have coffee together. He can't take that from me, ha!

  > ( Well uhm... I don't think I'm a big fan of coffee at this hour, you know... the hour that we do not know of. )

  Fair point. I'll make us some tea then.

  I fill a pot with some water and pce it on the stove. I turn on the gas and reach for the matches... that I always put on the side of the hood fan. And I find them.

  Wow, we are getting the hang of this, and it seems to work!

  > ( We're already a great team, aren't we? But don't let the gas turned on for so long! )

  Oh! You're right.

  I ratch the match against the patch... Eh, this doesn't sound as smooth as intended, forget I tried to make this rhyme, ugh.

  Anyway, once lit, I move the match towards the stovetop and light the gas.

  I fan out the match and throw out its sad remains. While waiting for the water to boil, I check one of the kitchen cabinets. Do you have any favourites?

  > ( I will go with whatever you'd like! )

  Okay then, how about Oolong tea? These are some of my favourites.

  > ( Gdly. )

  So be it. I fish out a little round box of ginseng oolong tea. As I remove the lid, a smell of all the beautiful things in the world tickles my nose, and I close my eyes.

  If only they were true.

  Once I can hear the water boiling, I snap out of my trance. I take the pot off the stove and put it down into the sink. I make my way back towards the table and pick up both cups, get back to the sink and try my best to fill either of the cups with the water. Well, at least it would be hot for a little longer.

  I put some of the tea into two tea strainers and then pce them in the cups. Oh, they are shaped like little fish…

  I make my way back to the table, carrying both cups.

  Here you are.

  > ( Thank you! )

  Now...

  I sit back down and stare into my cup. My reflection stares back at me, eyes locked with mine. Teal meets teal. My hair is still bck and curly. Though it's rather messy.

  > ( You could wear a headband today, don't you think? )

  Probably.

  I take a sip of tea. The hot water burning my throat on its way down makes me feel more alive, like pain always does. What makes you feel more alive than being in pain, being aware of how your nervous system is alerting your brain that THE WATER IS HOT, and you can feel the waves of stinging agony spread through each nerve and finally reaching your brain, and then - Ow ow ow!

  I enjoy the st moments of silence.

  You know, although I said I'd prefer us not having conversations I do enjoy talking to you and having your company.

  > ( Thank you. I'm gd to be here. )

  At the end of the day all of this was just in my head, but this would at least help remembering things.

  I jolt up at the sound of a knock at the door.

  Humphrey.

  > ( Who is Humphrey? )

  He is the mayor's son. I'm not sure why he hangs out with me till this day. I should probably mention that he also possesses magical powers, that probably pys into why he spends so much time at my pce. I head to the door to open it, but the keys are not where I usually put them.

  Hello? Help!

  > ( Where is the st pce you saw them? )

  They are usually stuck in the keyhole.

  I look to the side.

  I look to the other side.

  "Hey, you up?"

  His voice was dulled through the thick wooden door frame and the wooden pnks in front of the windows.

  ...

  Yes, I just don't know where I put the keys. Give me a second.

  "Alright then, take your time."

  > ( He can hear you? )

  Yes, he has mind reading abilities. Which means I can reply to him with my thoughts. And he can hear you as well, so watch your tongue.

  "So you're trying the inner narrator thing I suggested? Cool."

  See? Now... keys.

  ~~~

  So I can't have mispced them today.

  I hadn't even touched the doorknob yet. Therefore I must have mispced them yesterday. But what happened yesterday? What did I do? Do you remember?

  > ( I didn't exist yesterday, so not really, sorry. )

  Darn it. Can you help me look for them?

  > ( I can try, but we share a pair of eyes, I can only see as far as you can. )

  I know, I know. Okay, if I were a bunch of keys, where would I hide? Or... if I was a human, where would I hide a bunch of keys?

  > ( Are any bowls or ptes nearby? )

  I go to the kitchen and check every cabinet.

  Ptes, soup ptes, saucers, bowls, more bowls, sad bowls, tupperware.

  No keys.

  I check every drawer in the kitchen. A lot of things, but no keys.

  I return to my starting point.

  "Maybe you thought you had to hide your keys during one of your episodes."

  I looked through the door viewer to meet Humphrey's gaze.

  I'm not sure whether or not I should feel offended in a way.

  There's something mildly sour about the mayor's son trying to reason everything you do with his approximate knowledge of kitchen psychology. Not like he ever had to face any negatives of being able to engage with magic, but it's whatever.

  Humphrey chose to not comment on any of my internal dialogue.

  > ( Hey. )

  What?

  > ( The keys, remember? Check the coffee table next. You seem like a couch potato, so it would make sense you put them there. )

  You're right.

  I make my way to the beloved sofa. It is older than me, but it is in good shape. It is still soft, and it still smells like moss, just the way I like it. I know, I shouldn't get carried away, you don't need to say anything.

  I walk around the coffee table, and eventually start squatting down after every step to check underneath and in between the wooden pte that is in between the gss pte on top and well, the floor underneath.

  What is this called? Do you know?

  > ( An open shelf? )

  That sounds accurate! I'll use that from now on. However, there are no keys in the open shelf of the coffee table.

  Where else to look?

  > ( Your room? )

  No, I wouldn't take them there. The window in my room is the only entrance in the house that I didn't seal, because it's pointless. So if anybody ever broke in, it would be better to keep the keys outside of that particur room.

  > ( That sounds pretty legit. Do you think you could've moved them to any other rooms in the house? )

  No, I do not take them with me when going to a different floor. So they can't be far.

  > ( I see. Is there a bathroom on this floor? )

  "Did you flush them down the drain?"

  No, but you seem absolutely desperate about me flushing while forcing your face down the drain.

  ...

  Are you still there or can I stop searching?

  "I'm used to your snarky remarks, you'd have to do far worse things than that to get rid of me."

  > ( Hey. )

  Yes?

  > ( ...Did you check your pockets? )

  Both my hands rush into the pockets of my skirt.

  Positive.

  "Finally. Now unlock the door."

  I obey, for once, don't get used to it, and go through the keys to find the one for this door.

  > ( Why are there this many keys? )

  I don't know. I only ever use two of them. But I don't want to remove the rest. I still think of them as friends and family that shouldn't be separated. Humphrey says that this would hurt the overall vibe it has. How insensitive.

  I put the key into the keyhole of the door and twist until the lock clicks open.

  Now that I'm thinking about it...

  I should probably write all of this down, so I don't mispce the keys again.