oh, how cold the wind.

the clouds peak

painting my sky grey;

within your mind,

I reside.

I fix my gaze on the note I'm holding. I hurriedly rubbed my throat, perplexed by what I had read. I turn to face Aaren, who has a puzzled expression on his face. It was as though a light bulb twinkled over his head after a few seconds of staring at him while he reads. He had a grin on his face as he snapped his fingers.

"What is it?" I asked, "Do you understand what it means?"

He looks at me and says, "It could either mean two things: a memory or a place."

I continue to stare at him, silently, still confused. He chuckles at himself as he grabs the note from my hand, "Though, I'm positive that it's a painting titled memory."

On a Sunday morning, we left Carlsbad early. It was rare for me to get out of the house too early in the morning. I usually spend Sunday mornings in my bed, still sleeping, and I frequently have therapy sessions with Dr. Gregory in the afternoons.

Occasionally, I spend time listening to Zania blabber over something she despises, a post she found on the internet that week, or how she has always considered dropping out of her clubs but lacks the courage to do so because she still loves attending one.

It was ten o'clock in the morning. We found the painting at the Sam & Alfreda Maloof Foundation Museum in Riverside, here in California. Outside the building we are at, there were a few art pieces that gave the place a fascinating appearance.

"I'm still in a state of wonder," Aaren says as we walk side by side, heading back towards his car.

I squinted my eyes through the bright sun as I slowly turned my head towards Aaren's, shielding my eyes with my hand.

"Do you really think you could find the reason why your sister chose to end her life that way based on these notes that you claim she wrote?" Aaren says in a gruff tone of voice.

I stopped in my tracks and shifted my whole body towards his direction completely. His eyes found mine, "What if someone wrote it instead? What if your sister didn't actually write these notes? What if someone's playing with you—"

"And what are the odds of your what-ifs being true?" I said in an orotund tone. My face was expressionless, my brain begging to explode, and my heart... unsure. "Close to zero, I suppose."

I keep walking until I reach the passenger side of his car, where I come to a halt. He looks at me before unlocking the car. He crosses his arms and rests them on the top of his vehicle before resting his chin.

"In the very least, you should consider the possibilities of the infinite what-ifs becoming true," he says as he unlocks the car and immediately hops inside before me.

I slid into the passenger seat and fastened the seatbelt around my waist. I observe him inserting the keys into the car's ignition as he continues to say, "I'm not trying to scare you. I just want you to be wary of certain things, for nothing is really certain.

With his words over mine, he left me wondering more than he was wondering to himself.

❀

On our way home, the sun's rays illuminated the highways. Today was a beautiful day, but my thoughts are clouded by the what-ifs that I thought I had gotten entirely through. The idea of welcoming possibilities has its drawbacks; with that, it welcomes the opportunity to either make or break me.

And even if the what-ifs were true, I wouldn't know how to react. Maybe I was too preoccupied—I wrapped my head around the thought of succeeding in collecting all of the notes to even consider what would happen next.

I shrugged at the voice inside my head, unable to answer it truthfully.

Would my relationship with Aaren change after that? Possibly. But hopefully, not. I never imagined I'd love the company of others (besides Savannah and Zania) before. It's a huge step forward, and maybe then I'll be able to trust more people besides Aaren as well.

"You're awfully quiet," Aaren says, his hand on the steering wheel. He spares me a glance before he set his eyes back on the road.

"What are you thinking?"

What am I thinking? The thought of actually considering the possibilities of your what-ifs becoming true.

"Just thinking about where the next note would be," I lied. I shift my gaze towards my side of the window. On our way home, the highway took on a golden glow, and the trees' leaves were as lovely as spring petals, only it was on an early fall day of the month.

I felt a warmth over my bare hand, comforting me, my hollowed feelings, and the intrusive thoughts inside my head. It was rather enough to make everything go deadly silent.

I stare at my hand and hear Aaren say, "We'll find them. You'll get them back home."

I love how he says "home" as if it breathes new life of hope into my dead, hopeful thoughts. I look at him and notice a smile on his face, but his gaze is still fixed on the lane.

I smile at the sight of him. I smile at the thought of having someone with me. I smile, knowing that someone is him.