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“Hey! Wait up!”

I walk as fast as I can. This man keeps pestering me. If not in the city, ha! Didn’t know how he managed to find me here. Does he have a radar or something? Well, I don’t care. I just want a place without him or any thing that will make stress or anyone, thing, animal or whatever that will pester me! And he’s not helping.

“Where are you going? This part of this place is already dangerous.”

“No! Stop following me.”

“I wasn’t following you, okay? I’m sorry if I took a picture of you without your consent. It’s part of my job. I’m sorry.” I heard him sighed. My steps slowly faded until I stopped walking.

I listened for a moment. We were both silent and I didn't find it awkward; it was as if he was waiting for my response. I turned around to look at him and saw him hands in his pockets, head bow down and one foot swaying on the ground.

He looked sincere to me, but the fact that he was a stranger kept me from thinking that I should trust him, easily. Who knows? He must be a maniac who took pictures of different women then will post it online or sell it for free.

“Hey, whatever you’re thinking, I’m not that kind of person, okay?” He then took out his I.D. from his pocket. “Here.” He showed me his identification card, “See? That’s the name of our company, and this…” He showed me his camera and my photo, which he took a picture of, earlier. “There. Deleted.”

I made my eyes small, “You’re weird.” I said. I continued walking but this time, slower.

I could feel his footsteps behind me but he wasn't talking. “Y-you, ahmm… new around here?” I stopped on my tracks when I spotted an unusual butterfly. It landed on my shoulder and stayed there for about 2 minutes, maybe. I’ve never seen a butterfly so beautiful. I tried to touch it. But it flew away. I followed where it was going.

“Hey, miss!”

I hold on to my sketchpad tightly, this might help me on my next design. Again, maybe.

“That place is dangerous! Hey!” I don’t have any idea on what place this is, all I care about is that butterfly. I need to get it somehow, it calms my system. When I was young my mom used to take me to the mall and then we’ll stay in the garden we’ll catch some butterflies using our hands. She used to tell me that butterflies land on our shoulder because they loved the smell of it. But, I’m not saying that all butterflies are like that.

The butterfly landed on a flower, she put her wings together and rested there as if she found the sweet taste she wanted for today’s snack. I walk closer but slowly she might fly away if she notices someone watching her. I also quietly took my pencil and opened a clean page of my sketchpad. I started sketching with a smile on my face. Finally, a calm inspiration. This might be a simple subject but it conveys a lot of messages for me.

I almost screamed when I felt someone was behind me. “Jeez! What the heck are you still doing here?” I focused myself on my subject and did not wait for his answer.

“Why are you drawing a dress but your subject is a butterfly? It doesn’t make any sense.” His voice is low and deep that sends shivers from my back to the back of my neck. I found myself speechless for a second and took deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” His question didn’t help at all, he’s so close to me and I’m starting to feel like I’m going to hyperventilate at any moment.

“C-can you… move a little bit?” I said without looking at him. He’s making me unconscious by standing and talking low behind me. Which is odd, no one ever made me feel that way. Tim always hugs me from behind, but what I felt is comfort not like this. I shook my head to erase that thought.

“Oh, sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?” He sat a meter away from me, which made me sigh in relief.

“A little bit. I just want to focus on what I am doing. And having you near me made me feel uneasy. Sorry, maybe it’s just my instinct. You’re a stranger and you act as if you’re always comfortable with people you know or not.” There I said it, this is the first time I talked to a stranger. I always love being alone and he kept following me.

“I’m sorry, I really just want to be friends with people who come and go on this island.” He said as if he owns the island, my forehead knotted.

“What are you, some sort of an island owner?” I continued sketching, even if I don’t know what design I am sketching.

“I don’t own this Island. But my family does.” My eyes widened in shock. And I turn my head to him.

“Well, that’s the same. You carry your parent’s name, so technically you own the island.” I pointed out.

He chuckled. “Look here, miss. I believe that something will only be yours if you put hard work in getting it. And this Island was made by my parent’s own sweat and blood.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Whatever. Still yours.” I returned to what was I’m doing and didn’t bother to listen and look at him. But then I got mental blocked, I saw the sketch I made. This is horrible. I tore the page and crumpled the paper.