Thanks for the reviews! Here we go:

~ "Hey! Garry! Wake up!"

Garry grudgingly opened his drooping eyelids.

"Here I am trying to read to you- at your request, and you fall asleep on me! How rude…" Ib huffed with light sarcasm.

That's right- Garry had asked Ib to read Moby-dick to him as they both sat at the kitchen table. He loved her voice- it was velvety and serene.

"Sorry, Ib. I'm listening now." He rubbed his eyes.

She lay the book down on the table, "that's a lie. Why don't you take a nap or something?"

"heh, good point. I think I may do that." He chuckled.

He stretched and stood up, walking to his bedroom. Before going into the hallway and out of sight, he turned to Ib, "don't get too bored."

She answered him with scrunched face, "I'll try not to."

He collapsed onto his unmade bed and curled into the sheets- they smelt like her. He took in the tireless aroma of the deep floral and amber notes. He felt his lips curl into a smile.

He breathed in the scent-

In.

Out.

In.

….

His eyes blinked open. The glowing alarm clock next to him read '3:00 p.m.'

He'd been out for 5 hours.

God, five hours? How's Ib?

With a bit of urgency, Garry lifted himself from the bed and stumbled into the hallway.

He noticed it was dead silent.

"Ib?"

No answer.

He was about to panic when he spotted a slip of paper on the counter:

Garry,

Good afternoon, sunshine! It's about time you woke up. I got really bored, so I'm going out. I'll be back soon.

Love,

Ib

He stared at the last two words and blushed. He was a pathetic romantic, he'd own up to it.

I wonder what time she wrote this… Maybe I should go out and try to find her.

He threw on a grey sweater and headed out the door.

It wasn't raining anymore. The only evidence that there had been a storm was the puddles and the drops of water that fell from the building roofs and trees.

Although he knew that Ib would avoid the populated town square at all costs, as he usually did, he decided to search there first. For about an hour, he wandered around aimlessly with no sign of Ib.

Where could she have gone?

The dreary shopping center offered no proof that she had been there. He glanced into every store window with no Ib. He walked the wet sidewalks searching for the red eyes he knew so well. Still…

No Ib.

At this point, Garry began to grow anxious. He contemplated whether or not he should call for the police. He took a deep breath and reminded himself:

She's independent. I know she can take care of herself. Come on, Garry. She's a tough lady- she's probably fine.

His subconscious answered back to the thought.

Fine… But if she doesn't show up in a few more hours; find her.

He sulked back to his gloomy apartment building while pondering the different situations Ib might be in. Some gave Garry a dreadful fear, but he cancelled those ones with pictures of her drawing on a bench in the peaceful tranquility of the silent world.

He came to his room and with a wild hope that he would open the door to find a smiling Ib waiting inside…he twisted the knob.

Empty.

He sank down into the couch and threw his arms over his face. He listened to the quiet ticks of the clock, slowly swinging his leg to the rhythm. Not a minute passed when he suddenly shot up from his relaxed position.

No... She couldn't be.

He raced out the door to the place he knew Ib would be.