• January 22nd 2010
    It is morning right now, since before, I was writing in you at night. Mama told me to go to sleep as soon as I was finished, so I didn't have the time to tell you the thing that happened later on after I fell asleep the night Papa came back. I will tell it to you right now. To be honest, it intrigued me as much as that eraser did. Somehow, I felt a connection between the eraser and the thing I'm about to tell you. After I fell asleep, I dreamt a dream. Not your everyday dream, where there was a lot of confusion and mixed images. This one was vivid, almost as if real life. There I was, sitting in the velvety darkness that surrounded me prior to my dream. A few moments later, I heard a sound. It was a strange one. Almost like sobbing. There were words mixed in with the sobbing, too. It sounded like "Gomennasai…gomennasai…" I was worried. These words that echoed with the sobs were an apology. What would they be sorry for? I decided to follow it. Each step I took, it got a bit louder. Then I realize that it's a child's voice that is making the noise. I was right. It was a sobbing sound. I search frantically for the sound. I run in all directions. Until I pause and witness the scene that stood, or rather sat, before me.
    The boy appeared to be of my age. He had his head buried in his knees and was leaned against a wall, sobbing uncontrollably. He was covered in rags. His skin was pale, as if the cold of winter finally absorbed all the warmth out of it. I wanted to approach him, to comfort him. I slowly walked towards him. The boy looks up at the sound of my footsteps. I cannot even begin to describe the face that was looking at me, for it appeared in a quality to good to be harmed. The only fault was that he looked like someone who has suffered one hundred years of misery. I was startled when he started whispering to me. He sniffed.
    "Who are you?" he said. I did not know what to say. I decided on honesty as the only solution.
    "I'm Lena." I paused. "Why are you crying?"
    The boy looked away. It was as if I was a light that was too bright for him to look at.
    "Because no one can save me anymore." I stared at him. He continued. "Then again, I don't deserve salvation anymore. I don't even know what I am doing back here in this world."
    I approached closer to him, and sat beside him. I lean my head to one side as I tell him my next thing.
    "Why wouldn't you deserve salvation? And what's this about not knowing that you're 'back here'?"
    The boy lowered his head. He then whispered to his chest.
    "You wouldn't understand. No one knows what I've been through." I felt in the dark. Of course I didn't understand, because he hasn't told me anything yet. And yet, I felt pity for him. I also felt helpless. That I can't do anything for him. I saw a few more tears come out of his eyes.
    I then did something without thinking – I put my arms around him. All I thought was that this might be enough to calm him, comfort him. I was wrong. I felt more hot tears fall onto my hand. He, however, didn't shake me off. He didn't struggle in any way that made me let go. It's as if he was embracing me back. I guessed he continued to cry, because he felt that he did not deserve my kindness. After realizing this, I let go. I did not want to be the one responsible for this boy's further pain. I looked him in the eyes. They looked calmer now, as if a huge storm in them had finally subsided. Dark brown, I thought to myself. His eyes were pretty. I sat beside him for a while longer. After a few more moments, the boy broke the silence again.
    "Why did you do that?" he asked.
    "Hm?" I answered. "What do you mean?"
    He continued, "The thing you did before, why?" I stared blankly at him, almost surprised.
    "I thought that it would be enough to suffice your sorrow." The boy stared at me for a while.
    He then said, "You look familiar. I don't know why, though."
    I glance towards him. No matter how long I hold my gaze, he never seems even more familiar to me as anyone I've ever met in my life. I answer to him.
    "We've never met before. How can you possibly think that you know me?"
    He frowns a little, and then scrunches his face as if trying to remember something.
    "I don't know," he says. "It may be the looks you give me that remind me of someone else. It's a shame that I can't remember who that person is, though." I smile to myself.
    "My Papa tells me I give him the same look he used to give people, as if trying to read their mind"
    The boy's face suddenly lights up a little. "You're right. That is the look you keep giving me." He then gives me an amused look.
    "Why do people's thoughts interest you so?"
    I look at him, embarrassed. "I just want to know why people do the things they do. There was once a time when I could never figure something out, no matter how hard I try to think about it. Like the time my Papa left the house with a weird look on his face and didn't come back until ten months later. The reason of him leaving intrigued me so, that I wanted to find out why." The boy looked confused.
    "That is strange." I then smile at him.
    "I've got nothing to worry about, though. He came back to us, and just having him back tells me I've got nothing to be afraid or confused about anymore. I just wish he would share his secrets with me more often. I guess that the reason he keeps them is to protect us from them." We then sat together, in the longest pause that followed. Then, it slowly started becoming brighter in the setting that we sat in. A light was coming from somewhere. It was reflecting prettily off the boy's brown hair. I looked around. The light was getting brighter. Then, I looked back at the boy. He was practically beaming at me now.
    "I think I have to go now. I'm sorry that I couldn't stay longer."
    The boy replies to me, "It's okay. Your presence tonight wasn't in vain. Thank you for being there for me."
    "So, are you feeling better now?" I ask.
    "Much better," he replies. He gazes me for a few more seconds.
    "I hope we meet again someday."
    I stretch my hand out to him. I did not want to leave him. He continued to smile. His smile lit up his whole face, and then it became too bright for me to look at. I closed my eyes. Everything was gone after that. Nothing, but light.
    I open my eyes and see the ceiling of my room. I then hear a voice. It sounds so distant, compared to the one a few moments ago.
    "Lena, it's morning. Wake up!" It was my Mama's voice. She was in the kitchen, but I still heard her.
    "Okay, Mama. I'm getting up." This dream that I just had. It seemed so real. I could have sworn that I saw the boy again when I closed my eyes. Maybe it was just the aftermath of my dream. Even so, his whole face still shone. It was as strange as that eraser. The eraser that Papa stared at every night, as if his life depended on it. This dream. I decided to keep it to myself, except for when I wrote it in you. It was one of the first secrets that I had started keeping from Mama, Papa and big brother Lear. After that, I had developed a big habit of keeping my own secrets. A habit almost as big as the looks I gave everyone that I did not understand. All I wanted to know was if Papa could trust me with his secrets if I told him mine.