Traces of You
An original short story by Heterosapien - 2023
Plop.
Plop.
Plop.
The first raindrops fell on the cold, hard asphalt, the tinkling notes signaling a coming storm. Soon, more followed. It was as if the clouds had begun to weep, mourning the passage of time, the end of yet another summer.
The low hum of precipitation was interrupted by the ringing of the school bell, rusty after being unused for two months. And shortly after, the sound of rushing feet, frantic to escape the downpour that would soon occur.
Thud, went a notebook, onto the slick ground, from a hastily zipped backpack. And it lay forgotten and forlorn, on the steadily wetter ground.
Along came another pair of footsteps, slower and more deliberate than his peers. He alone understood the rainstorm. He loved the rain, sympathized with it. He knew what it was like to do nothing but help, yet be eternally despised. He felt the impotent rage and despair of the rain itself, yet the urge to keep helping, just like the nourishing rain which sustained the ungrateful world. And in his slow, calm walk, he alone saw the notebook, lying open, and slowly being flooded by the rain.
The boy quickly snatched up the notebook, and hugged it protectively to his chest. He knew this notebook must mean a lot to someone, and he didn't want its owner to lose it.
Hey! Heyy! Did anyone drop a black notebook? Did anyone lose their book?
The boy yelled out, struggling to be heard over the downpour.
Some heads turned, for a brief instant.. then they returned to their running. Soon, the boy was left standing alone and forlorn, soaking wet through his old umbrella, and holding a black notebook.
As the storm continued, he trudged sadly homeward. As he unlocked the door, and was safe from the rain, he hung his soaked jacket on the rack, and trudged inside, upstairs to his room.
The notebook lay on his desk, as he worked on his homework. And it laid on his desk still, as he ate his dinner downstairs. As the boy returned to his room, up to bed, wrapping the covers around himself tightly, as if to simulate a warm embrace, the book caught his eye.
The book had been on his mind the entire time. He knew that the bound velvet book was a forbidden fruit, but it kept tugging at his mind. What could possibly be in it?
After wrestling with this indecision for several minutes, the boy regretfully opened the front cover. Feeling ashamed for seeing someone else's inner sanctum, and he ought to know, being a very reserved person himself, he looked at the first page.
It was..empty.
Maybe the person left the first page blank on purpose to put people off.. the boy thought. He was now even more curious as to what secrets this book was hiding.
He flipped another page..and saw an elaborate drawing. On the worn paper, there was a sketch of a bench in a nearby park, and a girl sitting all alone. There was clearly a space next to her on the bench..drawn very conspicuously. And there were what looked like water stains on some parts of the drawing…rain, perhaps.
And then, after flipping through more such drawings, clearly drawn with passion..the boy stumbled across something startling.
A poem. A half finished poem, or maybe one that was abandoned. His eyes were drawn to the last half of the poem, which seemed to be scribbled out in haste. But he carefully read the first half, almost embarrassed to see the baring of raw, private feelings of someone else.
I: encounter
Shy, beautiful eyes
They pull you like magnets
Made of the purest gold
II: longing
Heart rent asunder
With the yearning of a spirit
Compelled to unite
III: confessions
Words slip from your mouth
As you wait an eternity
Joy, for requited love
As he read the collection of haiku, tears sprang to his eyes. Whoever had written this poem, whoever drew all those drawings, they truly captured the feelings he felt, the feelings that so many lost souls felt, waiting for the one who loved them back.
And right then, he swore to find the owner of the book. It must be one of his classmates, he was certain. And he wanted to help them. He really did. This poem was the catalyst.
He searched the whole book, first the usual places, then all the remaining, for a name, a simple sign of the identity of the book's owner. But there was no luck. Disappointed, and exhausted, the boy fell asleep, dreaming of his kindred spirit..
It was sunny, and some of the rain had evaporated, leaving small puddles on the ground. The boy walked to school, intent on his mission to find the owner of the notebook. At this point, simply returning the book wouldn't be enough for him..the content was so intriguing..and pulled at his heartstrings. He wanted to know more about the person behind the drawing. And that alluring poem.
He walked into class quietly. On the left side of the room, there were a few boys playing a trading card game. To the right, some kids were reading. On the side near the door, there was a group of girls talking and whispering.
The boy swallowed his anxiety and awkwardness, and forced out his words
Hey, did anyone drop a black notebook yesterday? It has no name on it..
There was a conspicuous pause, a deathly hush fell over the class. Yet it seemed that no one would claim their book. Most people didn't even answer. The few people who did, all said no, in various ways.
Perplexed, the boy took his usual seat, carefully placing the notebook inside his desk, unaware that a girl by the corner of the room was eyeing the notebook warily, discreetly from behind her book.
A few hours later, after lunch had ended, the high school class returned to their desks to pick up their textbooks. But as the boy pulled out his books, he noticed something was missing. The notebook! But where is it! Oh no..I can't believe I lost it. And it's someone else's work..
He looked frantically for the book, under the desk, nearby, but it was really, truly lost. And as the dejected young man was walking across the classroom to sharpen his pencil for some classwork, he saw the glimpse of a notebook on a girl's desk. The same girl who had stared at her a bit longer than the others when he mentioned the notebook.
He vowed to talk to her afterschool..if she 'stole' the notebook, then she must have been the original owner. But why not tell me before, when I asked everyone, he wondered in puzzlement.
The hours passed by in a haze, for him. He was so focused on the notebook that he could barely focus. But when the bell rang, he was the first one outside, waiting for the girl to come out so he could figure out what was going on.
He almost missed her leave, with her head down, and her jacket hood pulled up. But a glimpse of her face was enough.
Hey! Wait up! I know you have the notebook!
The girl froze and turned around to see him. Eventually, she spoke, in an abashed tone. Yes, before you ask, it's my notebook. I'm sorry for 'stealing' it. You must have been so scared, and I'm so sorry. It's just that I felt so awkward admitting this book was mine, you know? I didn't want anyone else to see my thoughts.
At that last sentence, the boy felt ashamed and regretful over his secret reading of the contents. But the girl kept speaking.
Here, you should have it, she said softly and warmly. You kept it safe for me. And also, you can know a bit more about me, she giggled.
Really? the boy asked, shocked that he would be able to keep the book. Are you sure you don't want it?
No, the girl smiles. You deserve it. Then suddenly, she leans forward and kisses the boy on the cheek. And, you are kind of cute, you know?
At this sudden action, he blushes deep red, and can barely speak. But his heart knows that he has to say something. Ever since he read the notebook, he was attracted to the mind behind the art, and now, the girl who did it all, was as beautiful on the outside as she was on the inside. He knew he had to say something.
He looked up to see her blushing as well, bashfully playing with her long wavy brown hair. The way her tresses framed her hypnotic eyes, and her soft, smooth face, her lips set in an expression that was clearly struggling to hold back some intense feelings.
And at that moment, almost unbidden, the words spilled out of his mouth.
I love you.
There was a silence that seemed to last an eternity. As if civilizations rose and fell, battles were won and lost, and the Earth itself reshaped during these short seconds. And then, to break the pristine, sterile, cold silence, the warm words gently heated up the air: Since when? The girl asked, not entirely displeased. In fact, she was overjoyed, but was hiding it quite well.
The boy decided that honesty was the best policy. After all, what did he have to lose? Ever since..I did read your notebook, and..your ideas and thoughts, and your drawings, they are so mesmerizing. And I guess I fell in love with your mind. And now, when I see you, it feels like you are as beautiful as your art. He blushes even more, and plays with his hands nervously.
The girl looked a bit suspicious, but started to speak again: So, you read my book. I'd have thought that it's supposed to be private. But I suppose if I was in your place, I'd have been overcome with curiosity too. I forgive you. It's not as if the book said 'Do not open'. And anyways, it's your book now.
At that, the boy blushed again, this time in embarrassment.
Hey, it's alright! You don't need to be sad. And..I find it sweet that you fell in love with me because of my drawings and my poem. And, you're the only one that's liked them so far. You might be nosy, but you've got a really sweet and kind soul. And I love that about you.
Keep our book safe, she whispered softly, and kissed his cheek gently, once again. See you soon! she smiled as she walked away, leaving the boy struggling to comprehend what just happened.
Dazed in happiness, the boy clutched the book to his chest, swearing to keep it clean and pristine, unblemished, forever. A memory to the blooming relationship that would inevitably soon follow. A harbinger of change, of good winds, of love.
One night, some months later, he flipped to the poem, and realized that he really did know the rest of the poem. The answer was in his heart the whole time.
IV: honeymoon
Your completion attained
In a soft, passionate kiss
The innocence of novelty
V: journey
A new chapter begins
Two halves, united at last
Your souls dance as one
And he smiled in contentment this time, when closing the book to fall asleep.
‐-
The boy, now a grown man, had married the love of his life. And it all started with a notebook. By now, the two of them had two children of their own, a son and a daughter. Life was simple. One day, however, his son came rushing in from a storm..holding a brown notebook to his chest. His father opened the door quickly.
If I were you..I'd take a quick look at what's in that book, son. You can do whatever you like, but I'd do it if I were you.