The darkness lingered before dawn.

  The air, crisp and cool, carried the faint scent of moist earth, a remnant of the night's dew. Slender streams of mist draped over the fields, merging with the dark sky, still untouched by the morning light. The silhouettes of distant hills were just discernible, blurred by the fog.

  A rooster's crow shattered the silence, and in the distance, cows shuffled in their enclosures. The thatched roofs of the cottages were sodden, weighed down with the night's dampness, while slender plumes of smoke began to curl up from chimneys, heralding the day's first fires. The villagers stirred, not yet fully awake, with the faint sounds of life emerging—lights flickering on, a wooden door groaning open, the gentle tread of feet on the cool earthen paths.

  One house stood out as if it had woken before the rooster's call. It was a moderately-sized house with a well-kept garden, yet its charm was undeniable. A small pond, where koi glided gracefully, was surrounded by bonsai trees, black pines, and bamboo, adding elegance to the garden. It was a sanctuary created to escape the hustle and bustle of city life—a haven designed for seclusion from the world.

  Sliding the door open, a figure emerged, seamlessly blending into the harmony of nature and humanity, as if it had always belonged there.

  The elderly woman stepped out of the house and onto the stone path in the garden, making her way to the small pond. She retrieved a bag of koi feed and began scattering it over the water, her hand moving gracefully above the pond to distribute the feed uniformly.

  She took a slow, careful look around, taking in the details of the garden, her eyes scanning for anything amiss. Noticing that everything was just as it should be, a subtle smile emerged on her face. She returned to the house, bringing out a kettle with an earthen cup, and slowly brewed herself some tea as she settled on the wooden platform attached to the house.

  Sipping the tea and taking in the breathtaking view of the garden were luxuries that came rarely. The flavor of the leaves, with a tinge of ginger at the tip of her tongue and a touch of honey's sweetness, complemented the scene perfectly, especially at this hour, just before dawn. It was a moment that felt precious—reserved for those who could rise when most were still asleep.

  The tea lasted a good while, as the lady knew how to savor it, yet not long enough to outlast the dawn. With the first rays of sunlight, she made her way back inside, heading to the kitchen as it was now time for breakfast. Her hands moved gracefully among the ingredients, like a fish gliding through water, reflecting her familiarity with the place. Curry, rice, and a grilled fish were prepared swiftly and plated with practiced ease.

  Placing each dish on the table, she slowly took her seat and began to pray. Soon after, she started eating, taking small bites of the rice. The taste was the same as always—mildly salty, nutty, with a hint of blandness, yet perfectly textured. Each grain stood out on her tongue, an unmistakable sign of rice cooked in an iron pot. The curry complemented the rice, balanced just right—savory enough to give flavor to the rice but never overpowering it. Lastly, the grilled fish delivered its umami flavor, the perfect side dish to round out the meal.

  It was a simple yet flavorful breakfast, but something always seemed missing from the dining table, something the lady couldn't quite pinpoint—or perhaps she knew all along but had chosen to ignore it for a long time.

  Quietly, she made her way to the sink, washing the dishes from breakfast. With that, her morning duties were done, and the sun was now fully up. It was time for her walk, as always. She left the house, strolling through the village, taking familiar turns and exchanging greetings with familiar faces.

  "Good morning, Mrs. Rêveur," a young man with a pile of branches on one shoulder greeted her as he walked by. She nodded in return, a subtle smile on her face. As she continued along the path, she came across others, exchanging greetings in the same gentle manner. With the older villagers, the mature ones, the teens, and the children, her interactions held a special kindness, reserved especially for the young ones.

  "Granny! Where are you going?" "Granny, are you on a walk?" "Granny, can we come, too?" "Granny, let's go to the park!" the children spoke all at once. The lady only smiled warmly, calming them with a soft voice, "Now, dear ones, I'll tell you where I'm going if you first tell me where you're headed."

  Stolen novel; please report.

  A small girl piped up quickly, eager to answer before anyone else, "I know! I know, we're going to the park!"

  "Ah, enjoying your vacation, are you?" the lady teased lightly. The children responded with bright, innocent smiles, a kind that most people lose as they grow older. Seeing their joy, the lady's own smile deepened, warmed by the simple pleasure of their company.

  "Good kids," she said. "Just remember to do your homework on time. If you do that, Granny will treat you to something delicious." A sweet bribe for their efforts, one that predictably had the children buzzing with excitement.

  "Delicious? What is it?" "Is it sweet?" "Candy? No, chocolate! A big chocolate!" the kids clamored, their guesses overlapping.

  "It's a surprise, of course," she said, her eyes twinkling. "But I'm open to suggestions." Triggered by her words, the children began shouting out names of their favorite treats. She chuckled softly at their enthusiasm.

  "Alright, alright, I heard all of you," she said, pausing as her eyes landed on one child who hadn’t spoken up, his excitement just as bright but his voice silent out of politeness.

  "Kotaro, what do you think? What would be good?" she asked, directing her question to the quiet boy at the back.

  "Ice cream?" Kotaro answered after a moment of thought. His suggestion was met with eager nods from the other children, who agreed that ice cream was indeed a delicious option.

  "Then ice cream it is," she said, her tone musing. "Do you all agree?" The chorus of agreement was loud and unanimous.

  "Now, that's a promise," she said, checking the time on the nearby clock. Noticing the hour, she added, "Oh my, it's getting late. Granny has somewhere to be. You all play nicely but remember to head home before evening." As she walked away, the children waved and giggled, sending their goodbyes.

  She walked on, a soft smile playing on her lips, her thoughts drifting to a quiet question. [Was it true?] she mused.

  In the distance, the train appeared, a small dot gradually getting closer. An old lady sat quietly on a bench by the platform, her gaze steady on the approaching train. She wore a simple coat, her hands resting in her lap, showing no sign of hurry or impatience. The station was quiet, with only the faint hum of the train growing louder as it made its way toward her. She remained still, simply waiting.

  The train came to a slow halt, the hiss of its brakes filling the air. As the doors opened, a figure emerged from the far end of the platform, his eyes scanning the area as if searching for a familiar face. When his gaze finally landed on the old lady, he paused for a moment, a hint of recognition crossing his face. Without hesitation, he started walking toward her, his stride steady and purposeful. The old lady remained seated, her eyes now meeting his, calm and expectant.

  As the young man approached, his steps slowed, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. The old lady looked up at him, her expression a mix of warmth and something unreadable, as though she couldn't decide whether to smile or remain distant.

  "Grandma," he greeted, giving a slight nod, his voice respectful but holding a touch of awkwardness.

  "You made it," she replied, her tone calm yet lacking the enthusiasm one might expect. She adjusted her glasses, giving him a once-over. "You look taller than last time."

  "Yeah, well, it's been a while," he said, shuffling his feet slightly, not quite meeting her gaze. "How have you been?"

  "I’m managing," she replied with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "And you? Still refuse to stay far from home?"

  He forced a small smile, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. "Well, not everyone stays in the same place forever, Grandma."

  There was a pause, not uncomfortable, just filled with things left unsaid. She nodded slowly, as if acknowledging more than his words. "I suppose not," she murmured. "Life moves in different directions for everyone."

  "Yeah," he said, softer this time, the bravado fading a little. "Guess that's true."

  For a moment, the noise of the train seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of them standing there—connected by blood, yet feeling like strangers in a crowded station.

  "Shall we?" The old lady gave a small, almost imperceptible gesture with her hand, a subtle tilt of her head towards the path leading away from the station. Her eyes meeting his briefly, asking if they should make their way back now.

  He caught the gesture, pausing for just a heartbeat before giving a slow, steady nod. No words were exchanged, but the message was clear. Without much fanfare, they both turned, falling into step side by side, walking away from the station, their pace matching in an unspoken understanding.

  As they walked in silence, the old lady turned to him, her voice soft but deliberate.

  "Morpheus," she said, the name carrying a mix of familiarity and distance. "What would to like for dinner?"

  The boy paused, a hint of surprise in his eyes before he gave a small nod.

  "Anything is fine," he replied.

  She nodded back, a quiet acknowledgment passing between them, and they continued on, the evening light casting long shadows on the road ahead.

  __ End of The Chapter __