1

One morning, about week after Cal started coming, Faye found herself inside the former owner’s, Lizzie’s room. She was looking for something, or is looking for something. What that something is, Faye did not know, but she is absolutely sure that there is something here, some big secret that Lizzie kept. Afterall, she reasoned, her death is all too sudden.

But what if the secret isn’t here? or worse, what if the secret is not a physical item, maybe it never left the safety her mind? Maybe messing up her room looking for undefined stuff is somehow disrespectful. She has considered those, but decided, that, if the death’s physical boundaries are different from ours. If they are based on the memories which they have left, then ransacking her room for some sort of a closure is less of a sacrilege than suspecting her of something which doesn’t exist.

Faye made a mess of things, from drawers, closets, bureau, and she even moved around her bed. She looked for marks on the wall, writings in the air, and books, maybe diaries, that Lizzie left. And Faye regretted it, the messed-up room is now more of hers rather than Lizzie’s. Every time she looked at the mess she has made, she felt like the images of Lizzie in her mind turned into some sort of a chimera.

But then she found something. Inside the bureau, is a beautiful palm sized beige brooch, with Lizzie’s name carved on the back. It is a really curious item that doesn’t mesh well with her image of Lizzie. She has never worn any accessories, and why is the brooch also seemed to be well kept, is it some memorials or someone? Or is it simply a gift from Kirsten. But Faye thought otherwise, something about the way it was placed, or the way it shone, perhaps, just screamed to her that this is some big secret.

Faye felt conflicted. On one hand she felt really big, her chest felt like it was filled with some sort of cotton which absorbed all her sadness, she felt like she was nearing an answer. But on the other hand, Faye felt like a frog on a mud, maybe, she thought, this is actually worse than just suspecting Lizzie of something which doesn’t exists. Why, she thought, did she ever think of trying to uncover her secret? But nevertheless, preference became real on the moment of choice, and she did choose to try to uncover, so Faye’s awful feelings ends there.

She placed the beige brooch on the desk of the bureau and inspected every single angle of it. It’s an oval shaped brooch, there is a marble like pattern on the brooch, and on its side is a beautiful golden carving. It looked more like a really beautiful decoration rather than something to wear. Lizzie’s name is carved on the back, and below her name is something which gripped Faye so much, the exact reason that she didn’t feel like it was just a gift from Kirsten. There is a carving bellow, such is written “Gather and unite, be fruitful and love each other” and below it is a series of number.

It sounded like some sort of a bad slogan for a company. Faye has never heard of a company like so, and the way Lizzie’s name is beautifully carved above it, seemed like it’s a custom-made product. Numbers below the slogan, however, indicates that this is probably a mass production number. Was her name carved on every brooch? Maybe not, at least that’s what Faye’s feeling, she has no reason to trust on her feelings however, but Faye chooses to this time. It is more likely - more than it was that this is a product she buys, or that Lizzie owns a company - that the serial number does not indicates mass production, but a number that Lizzie specifically choose to include.

But what does it mean? Faye wondered. She knew, of course, that numerology, is full of shit. And that a series of numbers, could mean anything one wanted it to be. Maybe that’s the point she thought. Maybe the numbers meant something to Lizzie and to Lizzie only? Faye groaned.

Then she remembered something, the posters plastered on the walls of the entertainment district. The one Angie bought back to the motel to show her. Faye dug her memories, little by little she went back, her face scrunched up for seemingly no reason, then flattened, then smiled, then cringed, and finally, a look of triumph. She has found it. The poster is of a smiling woman and on her back is a field of sunflower. And above her is a white huge text, designed to catch the attention of those that even just accidentally scanned pass by. There it is, verbatim, in a capital letter and eye-catching punctuation. At the time, Faye thought it was pretty obnoxious.

Alright, she decided. Something is definitely hiding here. At last, she has forgotten her guilt over ransacking and messing up the place of a dead person and smiled happily. She would have jumped with joy over the smell of mystery. But, the thought of knowing her friend Lizzie more than she did now, maybe overtook her lust for riddles.

Then she did a do-over inside the room, replacing and moving the items, re-arranging them as if they would somehow magically form an answer. The bed now stood vertical to the floor and lied on the wall, wardrobe’s door is opened halfway and its content scattered on the floor. And somehow, this worked.

Faye found another thing that doesn’t quite mesh with Faye’s perception of Lizzie. A pile of what seemed to be manuscripts. Here, Faye felt really guilty, maybe a bit late now that she has desecrated Lizzie’s room, but now she felt absolute guilt. Maybe, I shouldn’t have done this. And the cycle of guilt repeated, but well, she did anyways, and that shows.

The manuscripts are now placed on the bureau facing up. And on the first page, Faye read “A Research on The Golden Box”. Faye stared, her mind dizzy with excitement, as how it was, she seemed to have forgotten about her guilt. She wondered what exactly is the golden box, and how will it relate to the beige brooch.

She then flipped the first page only to find there is way too many technical words that she doesn’t understand. Faye is frustrated, what could it mean? What could porgy mean? And what in the world did Lizzie meant when she wrote ‘when the child is flicked with mother’s tongue, it glowed a different tone’? Faye thought, for a moment, that Lizzie’s image in her mind, fell apart. Should I, Faye supposes, Should I have not read this? She regretted. This is a very naughty manuscript.

Faye closed the first manuscript, with a bright red face. She hasn’t completely understood the content but she could, probably, have correctly assumed the overall story. there is a Golden Box, and it opened up when the mother - and of course this is just what she gleamed – licked her child just right, along with other the other mothers, and there must be someone, coordinating the licking, so that the mothers licked their child in the correct places, so as to elicit a specific response. Of course, this is just what she gleamed, she has no way of knowing whether this is correct, but Faye is pretty confident, that it is what the manuscript contained. Again, Faye regretted reading it. Oh Lizzie, what a wicked woman you are. Faye whimpered.

Another manuscript, with many others, lied below the one she has just read. Faye stared at the top manuscript ‘Argument against the Instrumentation’. She debated whether to read it, but decided not to. It will not do to tarnish her memory of Lizzie more than she already has.

2

Afterwards, Faye fixed Lizzie’s room, she placed all her stuff back to where it was. Well, it could be said that she was trying to undo the damage done to her version of Lizzie. Reality is sometimes way too different from her idealistic perception of the world but she has the right to do whatever she could do to twist her own subjective world if she wishes to. At least that’s how Faye saw the world.

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Faye closes the door and saw that the sun nearing its end. The day is pretty old now, and as she walked, the golden ray of sun casted deep picture to her mind. They way shadows deepened their colours and how behind those shadow, light formed dim images of the sun. Faye thought more and more about Lizzie, seriously this time, she’s missing something. Some key fact. Weirdly enough, she doesn’t care that much about Angie. Maybe her bad feelings and guilt are solely focused on the effect Angie have on John.

How could the beige brooch, the posters, and the southern city possibly relate to each other? Alright, let’s say that the beige brooch is Lizzie’s creation, what message could the pattern held, the name, and the serial number. How could it all connect to the slogan, which are also found on the poster advertising the southern city. She thought and thought. To be honest, there’s something very obvious going on. That slogan is most definitely a slogan of the southern city. And the fact that the beige brooch contained that slogan meant that it was a property of the southern city or some sort, it could also mean, that there is actually no causation here, maybe its simply a correlation, maybe with the same cause or otherwise, or maybe it’s simply just a coincidence… yeah no.

She sat down with her back towards the door, her messy hair fell atop the floor. She stared down and watched curiously as her crossed legs formed long shadows unto the floor. Okay, it’s either causation or correlation. For causation, either the brooch causing the city, which is not something I’m taking seriously, wait, it could be that the slogan on the brooch are adapted by the city. Alright, no. Ahn, okay, it’s more realistic to think that the slogan on the brooch are caused by the city having that slogan. Faye sighed. For correlation, the slogan just happens to be catchy, it maybe originates somewhere, and became popular. It is referenced on the poster, and Lizzie also thought it was good, and choose to include it. Basically, it derived from the same source.

Faye leaned her head back and groaned. Then jolted in surprise when something moved beyond the door.

Faye spoke “Lizzie probably have some ties to the southern city”

No response, but maybe just a few shifting. Faye grew worried.

“I don’t know, do you think it’s bad to comb around her room and ignore her privacy?”

Faye waited

“Look, I’m just curious what’s causing her death okay. I know this is distasteful and disrespectful, but there is nothing I can do about it”

The warmth shifted uncomfortably

“I know, I know I’m just making up excuses” Faye looked down “Aren’t you curious about it?” she croaked “I just felt like” she paused “Such a bad friend, I don’t know much about her, I don’t even know she was hurting back then” She hugged her knees “Why do I feel like, everyone is hiding something from me.”

The warmth stood up, Faye could feel him leaving the door

“I know, okay” Faye said hurriedly “I’m not saying she hid it from me. People do deserve privacy and personal space okay, I know” she closed her eyes “I just… I don’t know, just let me see. I just hate not knowing something and regretting it, if I know more I could maybe, I don’t know.” She swallowed her regret and said something else instead “I just, at least want to know, if I can’t do anything about it, at least I want to know that it’s actually not possible for me to do anything.” Her voice hoarse, she realized she forgot to breath during these long excuses “then at least I don’t have to feel guilty”

3

She stared limply at the road. Nothing changes, of course, except that some new dust has replaced the old ones, but those details are something which she doesn’t really mind. At least there is nothing out of the ordinary, she would hate it if there is suddenly a turtle flying in.

I have gotten side-tracked, she thought, right, it could be either way. Lets take a look at the serial numbers. She then covered her face with her palm. Ugh I can’t think. Faye stood up. I’d better walk around till my feelings are sorted out.

Stood, her feet walked in small steps, then after making sure she actually needed a walk. She slapped her cheeks red and her eyes actually got watery from pain, I think, I need more self-control she said. And then she walked off, her sandals absorbed heat from the parking lot. Bicycle is parked there and the metal sheen reflected orange light of afternoon. Faye decided not to use the bicycle, I think I want to enjoy a long walk. Then after passing the parking lot, she found herself confused where to go.

On her right is north, and on her left is south, in front of her is an endless overgrown wheatfield. Both ways are empty, only small slit of road between two fallowed wheatfields. Faye decided to go south.

The road is long, and there is only the occasional bending of roads visible between the overgrown wheats that tried its best to reach each other. There are bugs of course, beside the roads ants are visible, and above the wheats fly sometimes darted about. Faye watched the stems and found that some are broken, and all of them are dusty.

Okay, let’s think about the serial numbers and what it could possibly meant. She continued the interrupted musing. The most plausible explanation is a citizenship id. But that’s assuming the brooch actually have some connections with the south. Faye stretched her hands and caressed the oats as she walked by. Ugh, the only hint that this has anything to do with the southern city is the poster. She plucked one of the leaves and stared at it as she walked, I need more concrete and direct proof that the slogan actually originates from the city or that the city took the slogan from Lizzie, which would make her some sort of important figure within the city. She stared at the stems along the leaves. But why would such an important figure be 400 miles away from the city. But with this number of hints, I can’t exactly drop any of the speculations.

As she walked even more speculations are building up, yet there is one that Faye refuses to let go. I just need more hints. Faye continued to walk, her nimble feet carefully sidestepping pools that was formed by the rain. And as she walked her eyes sharpened as she stared into nothing.

And then a trickle of rain fell. Faye jerked surprised, she has woken up from her stupor. There is a sound of river nearby, and the wheats all whispered an anxious tone. The earth blackened little by little as water fell. And all the light from the sun dimmed. Faye felt nauseous.

She ran towards the river. Her location and the wheater played unpleasant memories in her mind. As she ran, she was forgetting which of the realities are the one she was in. Three years ago felt like it was now, and her mind lurched into a sense of urgency. But there is a calm part of her mind, pushing her calmly towards the river. To be more exact, the bridges of the river. She can take shelter there, from the rain.

Her feet splashed puddles and muds colored her legs. The thin finger of wheats reached towards her and moved around, the earth lets out a chilly whisper as rain starts to fell harder. Her hairs are soaked, and her shoulder the same. Faye felt her legs giving out as her mind played an even more vivid memories.

In her confused mind, now that the rain has reanacted the same scene so accurately. She felt the emotions she had three years ago. Her worries and regret. Something is under the bridge.

The bridge came into view and the depression of the earth shown itself, the water is lower than it was. And she lunged down the lower level. She slid down, and reached the grasses beside the river, and ran under the bridge. There it was. Her minds roared, headache formed, and she puked. Her trembling hands carresed a battered and injured woman. The images of her little sister overlaid the woman and Faye’s legs give out.

She stared intently at the woman. But she cannot seemed to see past her mind’s image. Tears fell and the river let out a calming whisper. And rain formed small waves that rippled outwards.