Just remnants

(Rorim's POV)

Compared to yesterday, I got home earlier with a clearer memory of today's events. I managed to ask my professors (from the classes I missed) about the topics and activities I needed to do after lying to the group that I'll be in the powder room. We all agreed after lunch to properly meet and discuss the activity tomorrow. I got to attend my three remaining classes in the afternoon and managed to share conversations with my seatmates.

There was Coraline and Beatrice from one class, Felix on the other, and Juan and Lloyd on the last. We all exchanged numbers by the end of each session, numbers that I have no use for. Meeting new people was never exciting; they reminded me how fleeting my existence was, if not already. Yet despite having lost so many people in the past, I can never find grief familiar. Grief cuts deep as much as you plant attachments. And one can never avoid attachments.

A theist I knew once told me that 'grief might feel less painful if you know you'll meet them again' and I almost believed him.. until I remembered what I was - a wandering soul.

I was about to head downstairs when I saw the door to my past brother's room left open. I went in to peek and realized the offer I gave to Gilbert last night; his nephew might currently be inside.

"You must be Miss Hourglass." A low voice behind me spoke, giving me a short heart attack.

I turned and froze. Seeing a ghost might be an understatement. This person had the exact same face as my past life. This person might have been me.

Impossible.

He wiped his hands on his back and held one out to me. "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Zen. I was helping Gilbert cook dinner downstairs. Are you hungry?" He motioned with his finger to emphasize downstairs.

Zen. Jensen Randal. I stared at his hand and stood there tongue-tied, dumbfounded. Words left my vocabulary, left my brain almost completely. This can't be. This has never happened. How?

Zen waved his hand before my eyes. "Miss?"

"Excuse me…" And I dashed back to my room, unconsciously slamming my door.

Immediately, I looked for the mirror in my bathroom. It was the only mirror I had in the room, one horizontal glass that occupied only one-fifth of my bathroom sink. And as much I have always found it revolting, I stared at my reflection. The same shaggy, shoulder-length hair. Still seeing with my dark, desolate eyes. Frame and height was still inconveniently meager and mediocre. Unsatisfied, I pinched myself thrice.

I was still me.

I sighed in relief. But each second that passed, fear crawled behind me. A creeping idea that any longer that I can afford to prolong my invalid permanence (not my own choice) could trigger more unforeseen circumstances. Was this his way of pressuring me? Punishing me? I was already on it, wasn't I? I already made a plan. I already made up my mind. I just have to do it once and for all. I—

Compose yourself.

Right. This will stop happening once I finish it. This will all be over soon.

I took deep breaths until I knew I was stable. I should go down and apologize to Zen. I should be able to do this. I should never falter.

I went down with a rehearsed warm smile. From the kitchen, Gilbert sliced the fruits while Zen pulled out the dish (it smelled like baked chicken) from the oven.

"I'll prepare the table." With each mat I placed on the table my lungs weighed heavier.

Once everything was in place, Gilbert said grace and we ate. Silence, that was usually etiquette during meals, became a thin air that suffocated my chest. I resisted my urge to gag on every spoonful that I swallowed. Eating tonight was torture that I was almost grateful that I only served enough - that I could stomach - on my plate.

I was done with my fill when I decided to speak, considering the scene I left, literally, earlier.

"Zen?"

He stopped chewing and met me in the eye.

"I apologize for earlier. I didn't realize how heavy it had struck me after seeing my beloved brother's room open and occupied." I wished so hard that I was convincingly apologetic.

Zen gave a polite smile. "Your sentiments are nothing to be apologized for."

Gilbert awkwardly cleared his throat. "He can stay in my r—"

I shook my head. "Please. It's fine now. I was just shocked. I'm alright now. I don't mean to worry both of you." They nodded in unison.

"I'd like to know more about you, Zen, but I think we can save that for some other time. I have homeworks to do. If it's not too late, welcome home." I managed to say.

Zen and Gilbert shared relaxed looks. "Thank you, Mis—"

"Please call me Rorim. It's already awkward to hear Gilbert call me Miss. Not from you too." This earned a snicker from them both.

"I'll try, Rorim." My selfish wish was only for the purpose of hearing my name come from those lips, to remind me that I was someone else. An assurance that I was not gazing at my own reflection.

"Thank you both for the dinner. I'll head first. Have a good night, Zen." I greeted and retraced my steps back to my room.

That night, after overthinking and examining my determination, I slept early.

.........

The next morning I woke up before my usual alarm. I did my routine, not one second wasted for aimless thinking nor idling. At breakfast, I greeted Zen who was in the kitchen drinking coffee and munching on scones, and Gilbert who was checking the food supply in the fridge. 'I need to restock soon,' I heard him mutter to himself.

"We can do groceries on the weekend, with Zen." I spoke and checked on Zen, silently asking his permission.

"Sure, I'd be happy to join." confirmed Zen and finished his scones.

Gilbert stood and closed the fridge. "I'll make sure to make a long list then." Zen and I could only smile.

I bid them goodbye when I was done and left the house a quarter to six. The bus usually arrived at the campus within a thirty minute ride, and in those duration I read. Today, instead of a book, I reread my whole death note for Norman, a morning push for my later plots.

Being late in almost everything, I assumed that there would be less people on campus now that I was early. I assumed wrong.

I decided to walk around then, attempting to find a good hiding spot for when I needed to execute my plans. I can't afford to have the whole school witnessing a crime.

During my curious walk, I found a few trinkets on the way; a jade colored stone from the pile of rocks near the fountain, a charm bracelet with a broken lock next to a trash bin, a shiny dime hanging from a humongous cobweb on one of the fire exit stairs and a crumpled love note from in front of the nurse's office that wrote 'meet me later at 4?' with a smiley emoji. I was about to pocket my last find, a neon guitar pic, if not for the voice that made me lose my grip on the rails.

"What are you hiding there?"

I could have broken my ankle or fallen to my demise if not for my fast reflex. It would've been embarrassing either way to have Norman inflict those on me instead of vise versa, as my plan should've been. I had already rebalanced myself when I turned and noticed Norman's hand almost touching me. His face was beet red, his mouth agape like he was shocked and afraid and his position awkwardly paused as if he ran and stopped abruptly. Wait..

"Were you about to catch me?"

He straightened and avoided eye contact. "You should be careful."

"Where are you headed?"

"Room 110."

"I'm headed there too. Let's go together." And I headed forward the stairs.

"Wait." He took something from his bag. He held out a bandaid for me and pointed to the back of my palm.

I was confused but checked it still and found it scraped, blood seeping out from the deeper part. I took it and tried to cover the scraped area. I must have gotten it from grazing the rough cement surface of the stair railing.

"Let me help you." He might have noticed my struggle. I gave him the bandaid and my hand. It was only then when I was reminded more of what I used to memorize of him - his towering height, his mole that rested perfectly on his left cheek, his long, sharp nose, his beautiful hands, his naturally curly hair, his fresh, woody scent, his sharp eyes…

I pulled my hand when he was about done. "Thank you." I walked ahead, embarrassed and befuddled by my own thoughts.

I sat on a random chair when I reached our classroom. Other students have already settled on their seats as well, each minding their own business. Norman soon entered the room as well and sat next to me. I stared at him, all the more bewildered.

"Sitting next to you would be more tolerable than having someone new talk to me."

At least you can find that tolerable.

"What?" Did I say that out loud?

"Hmm?"

"Were you saying something?"

I shook my head aggressively and went fidgeting from my bag. Then I recalled the trinkets I had in my pocket. I pulled them out and placed them on my table, thinking of putting them on a pouch so as to not lose them.

"Where'd you get those?"

"I found them on my tour." I caught him eyeing the jade stone. "You can have that one."

He shook his head and reached for the charm bracelet. "Are these supposed to be one of your interests?" He wiped the dirt from the frog charm with his thumb.

"Maybe." I hid my grin.

"What about them? Are you selling them?"

I took the guitar pic from his hold and threw it in a newly emptied pouch where I used to put my chapstick and other 'fresh-up' accessories. "Maybe." I grabbed the others and threw them all in my pouch, keeping them in my bag.

He crossed his arms and leaned back, looking offended. "That's unfair."

"What is?"

"I shared my part in the conversation yesterday and you're just replying to me with maybes now."

I chortled, catching him off guard. "I didn't deem you to be a sulky one." This earned me an incredulous look from him.

I took out the pouch again and pulled out the charm bracelet for visual reference. "I collect random trinkets that catch my eye. Like this one, pretty isn't it?" I tried to wear it on my wrist but it only hooked for a while and fell. "The lock is broken but I can fix it, replace it with a new lock. I like to think that before it made its way next to a garbage dump, it had a story."

"What could be the story behind that then?"

I pondered, agreeing to him. "Hmm.. maybe a single mother, working a nine to five job most of her life, couldn't afford to buy expensive things for her daughter's birthday and gifted this bracelet instead, with charms that reminded her of her daughter. She might have read the frog prince to her daughter when she was still a newborn. Maybe she used to crave guavas during her pregnancy with her. Maybe her daughter always wanted a bike as a kid but couldn't buy her one. Maybe they used to eat popcorn together whenever they go to cinemas. Maybe the daughter always wore a cap to hide the mess of her hair instead of fixing it. And maybe the daughter didn't find it special because the mother didn't share her sentiments. That's why a small inconvenience such as a broken lock can make this precious bracelet be worthy of discard." I noticed how scratched most of the charms and wiped them with wet tissue, hoping that it would alter the damage.

"Did you conjure that story just now?" Norman questioned. I almost forgot that we were talking.

I nodded and returned the bracelet to the pouch, and the pouch in my bag.

"You sure you don't want any?" I teased to avert the loud, awkward silence.

To my relief, he grinned softly. "What are you gonna do about the rest then?"

"Just keep them. Or maybe give them to someone else. Or even sell them. Who knows."

"Even the note?"

"Yeah? You don't know how useful that note can be. I can reuse it and give it to someone else when I need to meet them at four. It's a waste of good penmanship, I can't just throw it." Norman gawked, searching for a hint of a hidden joke from me until he found none and he jeered.

"Unbelievable." He whispered.

"This is taking so long." I complained, ignoring his remark. I stood up and scooted his feet, motioning to give space.

"He might be here soon. Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna find more trinkets to sell." I jested and left.

That was just an excuse. I needed to get away from him.

————————————

Claiming responsibility over something was easy, acting upon it is another story.

Day after that incident, Gale, Norman and I became a group. Once learning session was done, we browsed books from shelves and skimmed through pages to find anything that can teach about incubating. The search wasn't as easy as asking permission from Ms. Hipher, as most topics would only write about domestic birds and fowls and rare to nothing about wild birds'.

"Maybe we could include the eggs with the chickens." Norman suggested.

"That's unlikely but we can try. We can try finding a brooding egg, though I don't think we have. But we can ask around."

"It takes three weeks for raven eggs to hatch. Raven found them just last week, do you think that affects them?" Norman has a point and I started to overthink his question.

"I'm not—"

"It's been a week since I haven't seen their mom. They need warmth! What if they're no longer there? What if they freeze inside? What if—"

Gale rubbed my back. "It's going to be fine, Raven. We'll find a way. I'm sure they're still able to survive. Let's just do this quickly. Besides, the weather isn't as cold so they can manage."

I nodded, still a bit anxious but I would rather believe Gale than give up.

"I'll ask Ms. Hipher if we can include it with the chickens. She knows better than anyone what to do." Gale announced and vanished.

Norman gave me a reassuring face. "Your eggs will hatch. We'll make sure of it."

"I can ask Warren if he has spotted any brooding chicken in the coop. Maybe he knows too."

"Warren?" Right. Norman didn't know him.

"One of the grown ones. Gale sometimes stole glances at him so I asked his name. I don't think they're close though." I explained.

"Grown ones? You mean teenagers? I see."

"Teenagers?" I thought. "That makes more sense if you say it like that. They all have teens their ages. Gale calls themselves grown ones though."

"That sounds mouthful." He chuckled lightly and I joined. Teenagers were more mouthful, still, they sounded more appropriate.

"I'll go to Warren. You should stay there and look after it until we return."

"On it." And I left the first house.

The first house is where the young ones and Ms. Hipher stay. I believe it's also where younger kids at the age of one, or less, to ten are left. Behind our house is the Second House, where the grown ones live. Ms. Hipher doesn't handle them, someone else does; someone who lives there with them. Between the houses are wooden planks, surrounded with vases filled with vegetables and crops and fences that keep some of the rooster chickens. I didn't go there much, especially after almost getting pecked by a rooster when I was three. I headed to the chicken coop, to the other side of the fence and looked for Warren.

Warren had rusty, red hair - that's the first thing I noticed. His arms and legs reminded me of tree branches; long, thin and fragile-looking. He wore a beanie despite the hot weather and he wore dark blue long sleeves and pants. He had protruding ears that appeared to be big, like rat's, and a round nose. From afar, one can judge him as weak and clumsy but up close, he worked diligently.

"Hello, Warren." I spoke.

Warren stopped from his tracks and turned, finding me next to the feed sack. "Hi?"

"Can I ask you something?"

The confusion on his face was apparent. "Yeah?"

"Are there brooding chickens here?"

"Yeah, there's five brooding hens in the coop. Why?"

"Do they all have eggs of their own?" I crossed my fingers from behind.

"Uhh, yes?"

I walked close to the coop and checked, each hen sitting on their own nest. I frowned, slowly feeling dejected. "How many eggs are they incubating?"

Warren tilted his head, even more bewildered, I reckon. "Most of them have like three to four eggs each."

There's space!

"Would the chickens mind if you move their eggs?"

Warren thought for a moment. "If I remember correctly, three of them are a bit possessive with their eggs since they've been brooding for a while now. The other two just laid their eggs last Saturday." Today's Wednesday, so it hasn't been too long yet for them to get attached.

"Okay. Thank you for answering them. You can continue now." I strided, feeling hopeful.

"Wait."

I turned to him slowly and spoke nothing.

"Do kids like you usually know these things?" Warren asked, more to himself but still expecting my answer.

I only shrugged my shoulders. "See you again!" And I hopped on my way back to the first house.

When I returned, Norman was reading. Next to him was the box, covered with a towel and old clothes from the nursery room.

"When did you cover them?"

"After you left. I thought it might keep them warm for now. Hopefully it helps."

"Yeah." There it was again. The warmth.

"What did Warren say?"

"I think there's a chance for us to put the eggs with the chickens." He beamed and closed his book, the warmth tingling my stomach from inside.

"Now all we have to wait is Ms. Hipher's permission through Gale."

And we waited.

I lay on the matted floor minutes later, the afternoon heat making me a bit sleepy. I stared at the ceiling until my eyes closed. Soon I heard a faint shift next to me. I peeked and saw Norman lying down as well, his position parallel to mine with our heads facing each other. He was staring at me, his face expressionless.

"Why are you staring?"

He shook his head and faced the ceiling. "I hope they really hatch."

I closed my eyes again as the drowse swept onto me. Me too.