In the next day Will decided to go back to the library, he intended to ask the woman what were the ingredients of the cookies, he was sure there was more there than just eggs and flour. In a way he was grateful for the few hour of sleep, however the price of sleeping was the awful nightmares that brought up everything he was trying to repress. While walking calmly he could hear the voice of his former psychiatrist echo in is mind, "It's not over yet." Hannibal had said. "What's not over? He's in prison, I'm far away. I don't intent to see him again." Thought Will, decided to find a reason for those threatening words.
Thinking about Hannibal, after everything, brought a slight feeling of anxiety and dread. Will was a lonely kind of person, he barely gave himself to human contact and didn't really take any pleasure off it. He had, at a time of need, let Hannibal enter his world and his mind, trusting him with his deepest thoughts and saw his trust be betrayed in a cruel way. To anyone this would be a hard feeling to overcome, but to Will it became difficult, for several months to even talk to people or look at them. Moving to that small town, far away from everything that reminded him of Hannibal and his treason, was the only way to be able to breathe again.
He was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't notice he had already arrive to the store.
It was Sunday and the door was open, the chairs and tables were out in the front and the flowerbeds were freshly watered, in the air there was the scent of lemon and cinnamon. Will entered the shop automatically, there was no one inside and the only sound came from a golden cage near the window where a little blue bird chirped happily. The man waited some time next to the counter but no one appeared. He had forgotten the reason why he was there, but he didn't felt like leaving, so he sat on the small couch that was in the corner, and let himself be involved by the shop's cozy environment. He didn't know what he was waiting for, maybe he wasn't even waiting for anything, he was simply appreciating a moment, something he hadn't done in many years.
He had spent most of his life entering the minds of other people, he was used to know what others likes, what they wanted and what they were going to do next, years and years living a life that didn't belong to him and felling that his essence was nothing but pieces of other people's reality. Sitting there on that couch he retreated to his earliest memory. He was sitting at the kitchen table, on a wooden bench and he was so small that his feet didn't even touched the floor. His mother was baking pies, there was going to be a party, and she singed a love song, probably French. He remembered her looking at him with her green eyes smiling affectionately. Will remembered the happiness that filled his chest and the smell of oranges.
"Good morning!" said a happy voice from behind the counter that tore Will from his dream. It was the lady again, bringing a lemon pie in hands with a big smile on her face. "Did you enjoyed the book, or came to complain about the cookies?"
Why did she seem to always enter his thoughts? Will wasn't use to have strangers inside his mind. He got and approached the counter.
"I liked the book, but had strange dreams." He said without knowing why.
"Our minds work in mysterious ways, most times dreams talk to us and tell us what we don't want to hear." She said calmly while cutting the pie in slices. Will didn't understand why she talked like that and wanted to ask but was interrupted. "A slice? Just baked it. It's my Sunday's ritual, as I'm not religious and don't go to church I always bake lemon pies." and gave him a plate with pie and smiled as if she hadn't said anything before. "Now now, go sit outside for a while and catch a bit of the morning sun, I'll go find you a book to take."
Automatically he did what he was told. He was sitting on the esplanade eating pie and sunbathing. He didn't know what he was doing and felt terribly lost and confused, for some reason he felt like crying, but soon enough the woman appeared again with a steaming pot of tea.
"It's chamomile, good for the sadness of the soul." She said sitting next to him reading.
"Why is it that you always seem to read my mind?" He couldn't contain the question in his throat any longer.
"Oh dear, we are all connected with invisible lines and they all talk to each other, we just have to want to listen to what they say and we have access to a parallel world where words aren't needed."
"But I've always listened to what they say, and trust me I wish they would just shut up." He said irritably.
"Yes, but you know, you should listen with your heart not your head. And most of all if you connect with the wrong people you might end up hurt. So try to always have around you the good people, and you'll see, the world will talk to you in a new language." The woman explained calmly while sipping some tea. "And sometimes, there's people that will bind to you and consume you, oh this is the worst kind, they can be well intentioned but I guarantee you, they will suck the life out of you until you feel like you have nothing left. You shouldn't give yourself to those people, risking to lose yourself and not find the way back. And never forget, always fill your heart with love and happiness, it's the only good way to live life."