65 days after...

—I will stop being an idiot—affirm—You are right, there is no reason to cry, before all this, I was the same as now, alone in this house with a servant, of course Mrs. Smith died and it hurts, but you are now like my servant ... of course not I have my video games, the Internet, the rest of the population is dead, but am I alive, right? Why not enjoy it?

He turned to see me with a box of seeds and was surprised to see me.

—Did you not hear me?—I looked at him puzzled.

—What?—He pushed away the earmuff he was wearing.

—You are an asshole.

I crossed my arms and walked to the side of the house to leave the neighboring lot and enter my house being received by the warmth after spending more than an hour walking around after Rais talking about my analysis of my behavior and my firm decision.

How am I going to change with that idiot of a partner?

—What happens?—He looked at me with some annoyance arranging the box. Of course he had arrived before me to the kitchen, he had only to jump the dividing wall—I haven't done anything to you.

—I've been talking to you for an hour in the cold and you haven't heard me.

—And what is the reason? I never really hear you.

I bit my lip when I saw his condescending smile waiting for my annoying reaction and I released him when I felt them hurt, I did not want to cause me more damage than the cold already did.

I decided not to start a fight and sat down to watch him prepare some seeds.

—Are you sure that's how they are planted?—I looked at him while he read the directions that he had nearby.

—That's how they taught me to do it...

—Were your parents farmers?—I looked at it with some curiosity.

—Something like that.

—Do you miss them?—I had dared to ask.

—No, actually... I don't even remember them...

I stared at it for a few seconds wondering whether to keep asking or leave it there while the situation was okay. I knew the right thing to do would be to leave it there.

—Do you miss your parents?—his question took me by surprise.

What's up Crestita, do you want to talk?

—It is not obvious?—I looked at it with some anguish—They gave me a great life and but only the-

Come on, Zachary, go on, it's your time to talk...

—Disappoint—I sighed. Had she ever said it out loud? i had assumed it in my thoughts, but i had never heard me say it.

—Did they tell you?

—No, but, it was not difficult to realize that I disappointed them... their looks... their conversations with other people about me...he expected great things from me, he wanted me to be someone great... however... I crammed into that clothing store and believe me I liked it, I even told...—I shut up before saying something out of context—But I know they expected more from me...

—And where are they?—He sat next to me arranging the seeds in their bags.

—I don't know, maybe crossing the Atlantic, they took a sabbatical... because of me...

—Don't you think you're giving yourself too much credit?—a slight smile seemed on his lips—You are not annoying enough to need a break from you. You are not that special.

And then he looked at me, he didn't look at me like always, mocking or cynical, there was something in his eyes, a flash? I don't know, it was different ... Maybe I should have been offended or maybe pretended, but I just stared at his face. Maybe for longer than it should. I got up from the seat and wondered what I was doing.

—Where are you going?—He got up closing the box.

—I don't know... I think I'll try to fix my parents' room...—I stopped under the threshold—Do you tend to ignore me a lot? When i talk to you...

—Very few times I manage to do it... it's hard to ignore you— he stopped next to me and I had to lift my head to look him in the eyes.—Although I prefer to listen to you when you say interesting things...

And then there was silence.

Sometimes I think about Rais's past... all my assumptions... he's bad... I admit that I was always somewhat... prejudiced, and Rais's appearance gives me nothing but bad things: his haircut unusual, the scar on his eyebrow, the burn and the other wounds on his torso, the worst thing that makes my thoughts come true... is that he tries to hide them, since I saw him that night, he does not wear anything other than jumpers or long pants, well, yes, the weather is not the best, but I can't even be in long sleeves without starting to sweat from the heat of the fireplace...

I'd like to believe, actually force myself to believe, that he's good.

I guess it would be easier to trust him if I knew him better, although I don't really want to know about his life, because anyway I should be with him, I wouldn't survive without him, but ... it's fun, being able to have someone with who to deal with and who to bother, in a way the fear and interest I have in Rais ... reminds me that I'm alive.

Tomorrow maybe I will find a way to annoy him... maybe I will get to know his age...

In three months... it will be Christmas... Will we make it to the end of the year?

I would have no other way of keeping dates... without this journal...

I wonder if ... I should give Raise something ... the idea is a bit stupid since ... we have everything, and I wouldn't know what to give him, besides some manual to learn to relate to the only other living being in the earth ... maybe I should write one...

Step number 1: Listen.