a NaNoWriMo is born- THE STORY deadline: 1st of Dec.

[Kris]

Hey everyone =D

We are starting the NaNoWriMo challenge, where we try to reach 50,000 words with small stories telling the tales of the same hero.

If you want to join in the writing, you can go ahead and post the story (or stories), as you see fit for our chosen hero.

Few rules:

1. Keep the RPA rules in mind.
2. Each member can submit more than 1 story/poem/writing, however, to win a special badge, a story must be 1,000 words at least.
Which means you don't have to submit 1,000 words posts, but it won't get you a badge.
3. You can only win one special badge, which means you only need to submit one story of 1,000 words, however you can keep brining more stories and other type of writings about our hero afterward (they just won't win you an extra special badge).
4. Each 1,000 words story post will count as a regular award counting too, which means you can get 1 normal award and 1 special, in addition to the 3 Monthly Writing Prompts (it will count as 4 writings submissions if you did 1 story all 3 normal Monthly writing ptompts).
5. The "hero" CS is a bit limited to few details, but you are free to take your writing and story setting and details in any way you want.
6. This is not a chat thread, if you want to talk about this event, use this thread (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=79718), any none story/writing post will be moved from this thread to the chat one.

7.
Name: Arthur Sandford, Planer Traveler
Age: 89
Gender: M
Setting: really, anything

This is the stories of a guy, now advanced in years, who has jumped planes (timelines) all his life. Stories can thereby be in any sort of setting, and at almost any time in his younger life, including the story of how he managed to get his profession. Basically, this work could be described as "The Many Adventures of Arthur Sandford, Planer Traveler"

Have fun!

[ArtisticVicu]

Arthur Sandford, Planer Traveler, smiled gently at the youth that ran off with their new book. At the hearty age of 89, he had seen quite a lot and he still found the young to be the greatest sight in the worlds. He settled back on his stool, pressing a foot into a shelf behind the counter. It had been some time since he had thought about his own youth, actually, catching view of a young man that looked similar to how he had been back in his heydays.

His smile fell away into an expression of contemplation as he reached into an inner pocket. Fingers closed around cool metal and he pulled out an odd little trinket. He rubbed his thumb over the worn metal, losing himself to his memories of his first purposeful jump.

The world turned around him and his back hit pavement with a wet slap. Rain was coming down in sheets, creating a thick blanket of water over the cold cement. A 23-year-old Arthur Sandford coughed, rolling onto his side before scrambling to his feet. His dress shoes held no purchase on the wet ground but he got moving as a second body landed where he had been. The shot whizzed past his cheek, leaving the feeling of seared flesh in its wake. He didn’t dare touch to find out if he had an actual injury as he ducked sideways onto the busy sidewalk.

He didn’t recognize anything but that had been the point. He had to lose them, which meant losing himself. Weaving in and out of bystanders that looked bizarre in their attire, though, left him regretting that decision. But, hey, at least he had successfully made a jump on purpose this time.

He slammed into something solid and fell to the ground again.

Pushing wet bangs out of his eyes, he found himself at the end of a barrel of an interesting weapon. The man holding said weapon was standing over him stone faced and with a posy. “What do we have here?” the man holding the weapon drawled, his lips curling towards a snarl.

“Alexander,” came a reprimanding command from behind the man. The man turned his head but he never let Arthur out of his sight, nor did he move his weapon. “Let the poor lad up. It was clearly an accident.”

Arthur glanced away towards the way he had come but there was nothing but the legs of a crowd. Either his assailant was hiding or he had lost them. He was hoping it was the latter as Alexander followed orders by hauling Arthur up by the back of his shirt. Arthur stumbled but stayed standing after the abusive manhandling. Alexander merely pocketed the strange weapon. Arthur’s gaze went to the person standing behind the man, meeting eyes with a man late in his years. He tipped his head to the side. He felt as though he should know that old face.

“You sure are dressed oddly there, lad. Come from the circus, did you?” the elderly man asked.

Arthur blinked and looked down at himself. Compared to the dark clothing of those around him, his paler, brighter colors sure looked comical. He offered a grin as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Depends on what you mean by circus,” he offered, not sure what else to say.

The man that had the weapon narrowed his eyes but the elderly man arched an eyebrow before turning to said man and stating, “Bring him with, Alexander.”

“Wait, what?” Arthur squawked, jumping when the posy around him closed in. He turned, taking a step back, only to collide with Alexander. He looked up with wide eyes at the much larger man, panic surging through his veins again. Alexander, for his part, merely wrapped his large hand around the back of Arthur’s neck and let the lanky man to a vehicle. The elderly man clambered in and Alexander shoved Arthur in after him.

Arthur hit his arm on something on the way in and hissed as he slipped onto the floor. Rubbing at the sore spot on his arm, he took in the odd vehicle. There were bench like seats along both sides of the interior as well as a short two person one at the back. He looked to the elderly man, asking curiously, “Is this a limousine?”

“Never seen one before?” the elderly man asked with a gaze that wasn’t wavering from Arthur’s person.

Arthur suppressed the unease at being scrutinized like that by looking about the limousine again. “No. Just never seen this version of one before.”

Some of the posy joined them, Alexander included, before the door was closed. Arthur went to take the seat next to the elderly man because that was closest but Alexander grabbed him by the back of the neck and dragged him over to a different spot. Arthur frowned in displeasure at the man handling but settled in the spot nonetheless. He could take a hint.

The vehicle pulled away from the curb smoothly, there barely a motion within the cab of the limousine. Arthur looked around in surprise and mild awe. This was definitely something else.

“So, tell me, lad,” the elderly man spoke. Arthur turned his attention to him as the elder continued, “What were you running from?”

“Trouble,” Arthur replied without thinking. The glares he got caused him to backpedal. “Sorry!” He offered a cheeky grin. “My nerves are still fried and I was never well known for having a still tongue when I’m anxious like this.”

The elderly man nodded, though it was clear that the posy and Alexander were still not pleased. The elderly man leaned back, stating, “I am Marcus, head of the Cosaint family. You’re lucky you ran into me and not one of the other families, Plane Jumper.”

“Plane what?”

“You may know it as a different term,” Marcus offered in amusement. “Essentially, you jump timelines.”

Arthur stared at him with wide eyes. “You know what I am?” he whispered, leaning closer. Alexander placed a heavy hand flat against his chest but Arthur ignored the appendage.

Marcus chuckled. “Of course. I was one myself.”

Arthur’s eyes grew wider, if that was even possible. “You were?”

Marcus nodded. “A large majority of people in this timeline have abilities you would never imagine. Mine was the ability to travel between the different planes.”

Arthur frowned. “Was?”

Marcus’s eyes flashed as he smirked. “I did say you were lucky to have run into me and not one of the other families. Those like you and me are a hot commodity around these parts. When sold on the black market, we can bring forth a fortune most people only ever dream of. Others will use us for their own gain.”

Arthur shuddered. “That’s horrible!”

Marcus shrugged. “That is life.”

“So what are you going to do with me, then?” The silence that settled in the vehicle was deafening. Arthur shrank a little before straightening his spine. “You said–”

“I know what I said, lad,” Marcus cut him off, his voice reflecting the disbelief in his voice. “Why would you think we would do anything to you?”

Arthur shrugged. “Well, because someone is already trying to do that.”

The implication left a mark that Arthur couldn’t decipher. He pulled an odd trinket out of his inner pocket and played with it as a nervous habit. The glint of silver metal drew a number of eyes but his gaze was unfocused on the floor of the car, thoughtful.

“Lad?” Arthur looked up from his thoughts finding Marcus’s aged gaze on his trinket. “What is that?”

Arthur looked down at his trinket, stilling it in his hands. Made of metal with gears, wires, and tiny strips of metal, it looked like a pocket watch. He pressed the latch release, watching as the cover sprang open on the single hinge at the bottom. The face was numberless and intricately detailed by a design that looking nothing more than decorative. There was what appeared to be the normal hour, minute, and second hands as well as a number of other hands; a number of tiny hands were scattered over the face while two others were on the same spindle as the normal three hands.

He still didn’t understand it but he was getting used to the oddity.

“Just a trinket,” he commented as he snapped the cover shut. The tension in the vehicle grew. Arthur noticed and smiled gently. “I promise it’s nothing more than a trinket.”

Marcus held out his hand palm up, asking, “May I?”

Arthur had a feeling he didn’t really have a choice even if he didn’t care. He shrugged and passed over the pocket watch that wasn’t really a pocket watch. He still wasn’t even sure what the dang thing was.

Marcus pulled the thing to him, cradling it as he popped it open. Arthur frowned, suddenly feeling uneasy. He could see the three main hands starting to move and change, swinging this way and that, sometimes completing a full rotation several times and sometimes pivoting between two points. Marcus closed the cover with reverence, asking breathlessly, “Where did you get this from?”

Arthur shrugged again as he held out his hand for his trinket. He really did not like the feeling still settled under his skin. “A fellow gave it to me in my jump. He said that he didn’t need it anymore and that it would help me get my jumps more accurate.”

Marcus clutched the trinket to his chest as if he was tempted to keep it. But, after a beat, he handed the watch over, urging, “Do you remember the fellow’s name?”

Arthur’s face scrunched up as he thought. “No. Sorry. We didn’t really spend that much time together.”

Arthur watched Marcus deflate but the determined glint in his eyes was still there. “Can you describe him, at least? Any part of him. What he was wearing or what his hair was like.”

Oh!” Arthur’s face lit up. “He had this really interesting hairdo, like a spiky rainbow.” He tapped his chin. “Though, it was only two-no, three colors. Blue, purple, and green. Never did get the chance to ask him why he had colored his hair in such a way.”

“He was rebelling against our parents.” Arthur blinked at Marcus. The elderly man had a nostalgic expression and didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. He blinked, focusing on Arthur. “That was my twin brother’s. He didn’t have the same knack for navigation that I had. I thought it had gotten destroyed.”

Arthur felt as if the floor had suddenly opened out from under him as he thrust the trinket out towards Marcus. He felt like he was falling as he steadily spoke, “Then you should have it back.”

Marcus shook his head, waving him off. “I have no use for it now. You keep it.”

Arthur quickly put the trinket into the wrong inner pocket. He didn’t feel like he was falling any more but he didn’t trust the way Marcus had looked at the trinket. He couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to recognize Marcus’s face. It didn’t help that the last time he had seen Marcus, he had only known him as Mark. Speaking of, Arthur’s gaze flickered out the window, wondering if he was still being tailed. He hoped not.

His gaze flickered to Alexander before back to Marcus whose gaze had not moved from his hidden breast pocket. Arthur tensed as Gabe’s warning rang through his head: Don’t trust anyone. If this falls into the wrong hands, then all our worlds are doomed.

He internally groaned. How was it that he ended up part of some action adventure story?

The vehicle pulled to a stop and Arthur looked out the window to the building awaiting them.

Marcus chuckled. He caught Arthur’s gaze and offered, “Welcome to Cosaint Manor, young Plane Jumper.”

[m139]

---
But perhaps, dear reader, you are wondering how Arthur even got into such a situation in the first place. Well, I could tell you that story, but the question is where to begin. If I started just before, I could tell you who it was who was chasing him. Or a little before, and you might understand a bit of the why. But if you wanted to understand all, I would have to go back to his birth- no, further than that: the birth of his society. But then we might never get to this part of Arthur's story. And so, I think, I shall begin not at any of these points, but on another day that quite determined his life: the day he became destined to become a planer traveler...

---
TIMESTAMP:
Plane: Standard Plane, timeline sub 0
Location: New Earth 3
Date: 4561 NoT


The waiting room was just like any other. White-washed walls, scattered chairs here and there that neither looked comfortable, nor actually felt that way, a few corner tables with scattered magazines dated from at least a month or two ago. The people in the room, who numbered about ten in all, were in about the same condition of those various publications: this one looked tattered and worn, that one, stiff and formal, these two- a man and a woman- well, they looked like normal people. Both appeared to be somewhere near or just past forty, and both were fairly fair skinned, although the tint of the man's made it seem that he was outside more. He had deep brown eyes and his hair, a light brown color, seemed to be slightly curly. Today, it was pressed down, in some attempt to look formal. Still, a bit escaped. As for the woman, she was scanning a random magazine just to have something to do, her green eyes shining brightly as she brushed some strands of her black hair back that had escaped her bun. They were a bit on the nervous side, perhaps, but then, who would not be? After all, they were waiting for the results of their son's first FE.

Time passed, although one would not know it except for the subtle movements of the digital clock that hung on the back wall. True, people came and went, and occasionally an attendant, all dressed in white, would appear from out of the back door and usher one of those waiting inside. But as for the two people in question, well, they were still in the room. Occasionally, they spoke to each other. But as for their conversations, they were short and tense. As time went on, it only got worse. What was taking so long? Should not the exams have finished an hour- now two, three no, four hours ago? Was something wrong with their son?

Time passed, nervousness grew. The woman had by now flipped through the entire collection of articles both on the coffee table near her and the one across the room. The man had looked at the clock for about the seven billionth time. And time kept creeping, slowly, slowly by.

The wait was getting longer. The people in the room kept coming and going, coming and going. But the couple stayed, although their state of mind was gradually changing from general apprehension to pure worry.

Another attendant, dressed in a white lab coat, appeared in the back doorway. "Mr. and Mrs. Sandford?" she asked, looking up from her hefty clipboard.

The couple in questioned looked at each other for a moment, and then got up. As they followed the young women down the hallway in silence, the anticipation and fear, which before had always been there, seemed to grow and grow. What if he had been deeped one of those- no. They would not think of it. He could not be one of those who just would have no place in societ-

Finally, they reached a door near the end of the hall. The women opened in partially, sticking her head in and speaking a couple of unintelligible words to its occupants before opening it all the way up and letting the Sandfords inside.

The room was not an ordinary one, or, at the very least, it was not an ordinary one in which the parents of a child discussed the results of the FE. They had expected a desk, some chairs, and their child waiting to greet them. But here, there was nothing. Well, there were some chairs, or a t least there were stools. It was a rather large room, and more of a laboratory than a conference room. A large table stood in the center of the room, various instruments and papers scattered all over it. At the far end of the room, there was a curtain covering the entire wall. In front of it, a woman in some sort of casual lab dress was sitting on a low counter. She was fiddling with some sort of electrical device, and was wholly ignoring the couple. She was, however, judging by the nodding of her head, listening to the elderly man, dressed in the same kind of garb, who was speaking softly to her. But neither of these acknowledged the couple. Rather, it was a man who was standing near the close wall behind some cabinets who addressed them first.

"Ah!" he began, looking around the edge of an open cabinet as he pulled something out, "I see you have arrived. Sorry your son is not here to see you yet, but no worries- I see that look- he's fine. He's got a bright future ahead of him, actually, if the results stay constant." Here the man, dressed in a functional suit, paused as he handed something to his as yet unseen assistant, who took it, and exited the room with the attendant who had brought the Sandfords here, the door clicking softly behind them.

The man then straightened up and walked out to shake the two parent's hands. "Hi, I'm Dr. Moliders, sorry for the unconventional meeting place, but your son is still in the FE's. Supplement after supplement-"

"Can they not find-" Mrs Sandford spoke. She stopped as suddenly as she started. She had not wished to say anything at all, but she was unable to keep her fears internalized any longer.

Her husband grasped her hand in his.

"Heavens, no." Replied Dr. Moliders, "When I said great, I meant great! I have not seen someone with such affinity for years! With this amount of innate talent- the proper amount of training will be provided of course, but with this amount of talent-"

"Andrew." The man from the back of the room suddenly spoke up. With this word, the Doctor broke off, and made eye contact. In an instant, the two seemed to have spoken a thousand words, for when Dr. Moliders turned back to the couple, he was much more calm and collected.

"But where are my manners?" he began, "Please, have a seat, I have only these stools to offer, but at least they are something." Taking a seat himself, he waited for the nervous parents to sit before continuing, "There really is nothing to fear. Your son, although still testing, passed all the basics. We were putting him through some of the more specialized tests, like we did for his siblings, when we noticed a spike in the readings of the tentrophomine meter. So of course we but him through the PHETA test, and anyways, one thing led to another, but the specifics probably would not make sense to you. So, to make a long story short- please pardon us for all the waiting, but we had to make sure- your son is a prime candidate for the manifestation of the ability to plane jump."

"Plane jump" Mr. Sandford's eyes went wide. He always had had great dreams for his children, but for one to be a plane jumper...

Less than one in a million people in this world ever manifested something that could be considered as magical powers. And for those that did, well, most of the results were rather boring- perhaps this one could blow out a candle from across the room, or that one could, on occasion, making their left pinky glow. And although science had been able to recognize the symptoms that led to the possibility of such a thing, they had yet to figure out all its causes, and many attempts to replicate them had failed. So a plane jumper- one who could, in theory actually use their power, was an amazing thing.

"And not only does it seem he may manifest these powers, but these signs are the strongest we have seen in years!"

"Decades, actually." the man from the back of the room had come to join them, he stood at the table, despite the stools behind him, and continued to speak, "As my colleague has said, "he tests really high. Still, we did not want to tell you until we were sure, so we put him through more tests, hoping he would manifest today. It took some time for us to find another living being who could prompt him- for you know that one of the best ways to lead to a manifestation is to have someone dump magic into them. A dangerous method, true- it sometimes may kill a false alarm- but we were so sure- Please don't worry, we were right in his case. Your son, Arthur, he created a fist sized hole, first time. As Dr. Moliders has said, his future will be great."

"Yes," began Dr. Moliders, eager to expound, "In fact, I believe that with a little bit of-" he stopped as the older man put his hand on his shoulder.

"Dr. Moliders will of course tell you of the personal plan that has been created for Arthur. In fact, he will take you to a better room than this. It was a pleasure meeting both of you." The older man shook their hands, and the Sandfords left the room with Dr. Molider without ever knowing his name. In fact, they only found it out later when they asked the chatty Doctor.

"Oh, him?" Dr. Moliders had said, "That's Dr. Freklin. He's third in charge of the special division. I'm sure the director himself would have seen you if he was not half way around the world on some meeting." Both Sandfords were rather impressed. Fear had turned to joy, and their excitement only increased as they waited to see theirs son, who, after a time, was finally reunited with them.

But had they remained in the room with the elder Dr. Freklin and the woman, their feelings might have been different.

As the door clicked behind the couple, Dr. Freklin continued to look at the door. The couple's image was now burned into his mind, together with all the images that had come up when he had searched them and their children. He knew them all now as if they were his own. Stacy, Isadore, Joan, Matthew. And of course, Arthur. More children then normal, for this day and age, but with parents who had such potential themselves, of course it would be allowed. And look at what fortune had bestowed on the last son- indeed, if they wanted more children, they would never get denied now. Not with his influence.

But as to the now... He could feel her eyes staring at him. Without turning around, he spoke, "What is it, Miranda?"

The woman, never ceasing to play with the gadget in her hands, answered, "You never told them."

"Told them what?" he asked, turning around.

"Told them about Rosamond." there was a bit of resentment just noticeable rising in her voice, "You know very well that Arthur isn't the best for decades past-"

" And what good would it have done to tell them?"

"Bright future- Isn't that what you said to her parents, too?" Miranda laid aside the gadget in her hands.

"Miranda, as you know-" Dr. Freklin's voice contained a slight warning.

"And then, what happened, you-"

"Miranda-"

"You had her killed."

"Miranda! You know very well that it had to happen. You cannot let someone run around like that, rouge, with such power to hurt people!"

"She was not trying to hurt anyone!"

"Oh, really? What about the people in Facility 9, and let's not forget the-"

"She was only trying to protect herself from you!"

"She was a threat to society that had to be removed!"

At this point, the two of them were staring at each other from across the room, anger apparent in both of their eyes. For a while, they held each other's gazes, fire blazing in each pair of eyes.

Miranda's dropped first.

"You know it had to be done." Dr. Freklin continued, "Even if she had been your best friend. She would have killed you, too."

Miranda just nodded, again picking up the gadget and working on it. She did not speak again as Dr. Freklin gathered up a couple of papers and left the room. Nor did she speak afterwards- she only let the tears fall down her face. But her mind and hands were at work. In her mind, the words arose, But you did not actually kill her, did you. You tried, but she escaped. And neither you, Arthur, or whoever else you get will ever find her. Ever. As she thought, her mind continued to work on the object in her hands.

It was much later when she finally decided she was done for the night. She inspected the piece one more time, then picked it up and went to a bin on the other side of the room, a bin to which only she had the key. She unlocked it, placed the gadget inside, then closed and locked it again. After which, she left the room, the lights automatically turning off behind her, and the key still held tightly in her hand.

But it did not really look much like a key now, but rather a silver pocket watch-ish thing.

[Kris]

It was a story morning, with weak ray of sunlight. I saw her about to close the gates, when I walked for her direction.

"We're closed", she said in a soft voice. She changed. Got prettier. The years done her justice.

I held my position and leaned against the wall, taking out a smoke from my coat. As she fiddle with the lock, old primitive type, I always thought that here they would use something far more advanced like fingertips or eye scanning, she kept sending me off, "Told you we are done for the day, go now, get".

I inhaled. It felt like a surrealistic painting. Autumn colors, with gray and brown painting everything. The streets, the trees, the lamps that still worked, the benches that some drunks and homeless claimed as bed for the night.

My gray puffs left my mouth in a straight line, and I coughed a little. It's been a while since I smoked. It was such a bad habit, but seeing her here sure made me forget about how I wanted to stay away from this darn cigar. I needed something to warm myself in this rain while my thoughts arranged.

At last there was a 'click' of metal hit another and I knew she finished. She was about to cross the road when she threw another barking at me, "Get, we are-".

Our eyes met. Her big brown iris fitting the scenes, while mine, the dark blue were out of place. Exactly like how was I in her life. She study me. Still unsure. I did the same. There were mark on age on her face, but if anything, it only added to her decoration. Still a beautiful lady. Still a missed opportunity.

"Arthur".

I tapped my hat a little and smiled.

"It's been a while".

We stood frozen. Like a noir scene, I was dressed to boot, my hat and coat and cigar. I was fitting right in. She was my femme fatale, with her wavy straight black hair.

"It's been a while", she said slowly.

The rain stopped. We didn't felt it. We both had wear our hearts on our sleeves and dared not move from there.

At the end she looked both ways and started to move, moving away from me. Maybe she fed up with the silence, or me.

I followed, still sticking the cigar in my lips, my hands grabbing the pockets of my coat.

"Don't follow me", she hissed behind her, without turning back, and I watched her hour-glass figure sway in her wet cloths, "You shouldn't be here. You said you won't be back. I don't want any ghosts from my past following me".

I kept on.

"You are just a ghost, a wind, a rush passing through my life, I don't want it Arthur". Her voice was a thunder, in a new gray day. It was cloudy and she was the rain maker, "You shouldn't be here bastard, you shouldn't". I knew her tears had gathered up, "You left. You left and never looked back. Why now? Why?", her voice rang higher in an empty street. The lights still flicker, a new day was coming, but no human was out of their houses. Damn it. Someone. Anyone. Bump into her. Make her stop.

She is flying away from me. I know I did the same, but I never hoped to have the day where I wanted her so bad and all I could catch was a glimpse of her back.

"I have another man in my life now".

You lie.

"He is everything to me. Don't follow me".

I already did my research on you, I took me 3 years in this world to find you, and 2 more years to know of you. I missed you damn it. Stop.

My voice refused to call out to this lady. The cigar was keep my lips shut. Someone. Anyone. Bump into her. Stop her.

Her boots clicking stopped beside a small apartment. We have arrived to her house. She stopped. She dug her gloved fingers inside her small bag and searched for the key.

I leaned in against the wall, watching her fiddling with the locks. She seemed to be terrible with handling them. And my god, isn't it time to advance to something easier to handle.

A click.

I looked up and she did the same, only to move her head, "Why now... Why...", her voice was high, "Why after all these years..."

"Please", I said. I watched the cigar fall as I killed it with my shoe.

"No."

"Please".

"No, no, she said", shaking her head, "You left me. You hurt me so... Why coming back after all these years? Why mocking me so? Why are you doing this to me".

"I'm sorry".

"Are you planning to leave again?"

My balance was uneven. I was getting old. Even my abilities to travel spaces were not what they used to be. But I couldn't promise her something I wasn't sure of.

"I don't know".

Another moment of silence, "I can't let you in Arthur, I'm not young and strong to forget again".

"Then don't", I said slowly. Bending on my knees, "Then don't".

She moved closer to me, removing my hat and petting my head. Looking like a paint of saint embracing a sick person while praying. "Let me in, please", I said, "I can't promise the future. And I know I can't correct the past, or even make up to you on the present... But I know I want to be here. With you".

"I don't think I can care for two people".

"You won't be needing to", I got up, "This time I hope to do so".

Another moment of pause.

She moved to the door, "It will probably be the last chance", she said.

"I understand", and I stumbled after her as she closed the door behind her and myself. I felt it strongly. Home. And the ending of my traveling.

It was a good feelings.