Day 2: The invisible thread and the distance that cannot be seen

Zick adjusted his backpack and stepped out of his room.
"I'm heading out," he said in a calm voice.
"Alright, son," his mother replied from the kitchen.

Outside, Kori was waiting for him, leaning on her bicycle, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Hurry up, Zick!" she shouted with a playful grin.
"I'm here. Hop on—and don’t forget your helmet."
"Got it!" she answered, full of energy.
"Okay, hold on tight."

The road to school was beautiful.
The sky, clear and deep, stretched above them like an endless blue canvas.
The scenery, dotted with trees and wildflowers, shimmered with a quiet, simple beauty.
The breeze brushed against their faces, sweeping their thoughts away.
And for a moment, everything was peaceful.

They didn’t talk, but in their shared glances and silent closeness, they understood one another.
Yet a shy, invisible veil kept them from saying it out loud.
And still… there was no need.

Once at school, Zick parked the bicycle and they headed into the classroom.
He sat by the window, while Kori joined her group of friends.
Zick watched them for a moment, thoughtful.
He took out his notebook and began to draw.

He spent the entire class sketching nonstop, as if lost between memories and lines on the page.
The echoes of laughter around him mixed with the soft scratch of his pencil.
At one point, his hand stopped.
He glanced at Kori laughing with her friends, then lowered his gaze.

It wasn’t envy…
It was more like longing.

He resumed drawing, this time with more intention—
as if trying to capture the distance between them that he could never seem to cross.

Time passed until the bell rang for recess.

"What are you working on?" Kori asked, leaning over his shoulder.
"Sketches for my manga," he replied, not looking up.
"Ooh!" she exclaimed, eyes widening. "You’re really good at drawing!"
"Thanks… I guess."
"You want to be a mangaka, right?"
"Yeah. I’ve been designing all the characters for a while now."
"When you finish it, I want to be the first one to read it!" she said with a bright smile.
"No doubt about that," he replied, allowing himself a small smile.

"And you?" Zick asked, glancing sideways at her. "How are things with your friends?"
"Good. We were planning a hangout. We suggested a few places, but we decided to spend the weekend at Joseph’s place."
"Sounds fun," he said, putting away his pencil.

The bell signaling the end of recess cut their conversation short.
"Wait for me after class so we can leave together, okay?" she asked.
"Yeah, sure."

Kori returned to her seat.
Zick watched her for a moment, then rested his head on his desk, staring out the window.
The rest of the day passed in the usual monotony, until the final bell rang.

Zick gathered his things to meet Kori and stepped outside.
Seeing her talking with a friend, he decided to go get the bicycle and wait for her outside.

A few minutes later, Kori ran up to him.
"You’re terrible, Zick! I thought you were going to leave without me!" she said, pretending to be upset—though it was more cute than anything.
"As if," he replied with a teasing grin.
"How about—just to make up for it—you treat me to something sweet?"
"That hurts my pride deeply… but I’ll allow it," she answered, trying to look serious, though her eyes sparkled.

"What do you want?"
"Lemon pie."
"Alright. Helmet on, and hold tight."
"Done! Let’s go get something sweet!"

The streets filled with laughter and the hum of the wind.
It was a simple afternoon, but a perfect one.

They arrived at the bakery and bought the pie.
As they ate, Zick checked the time.

"It’s getting late. I should take you home before it gets dark."
Kori nodded, cheeks still full, making him smile.

He dropped her off in front of her house, just under a streetlamp.
"See you tomorrow, Zick," she said, waving.
"Yeah. Rest well," he replied, pedaling away.

The streets were quiet, washed in the soft light of dusk.
The wind was cold, but pleasant.
He thought about how easy it was to talk to her… and how hard it was with everyone else.
She could smile without effort, find the right words without thinking.

Why couldn’t he?

His reflection in a shop window caught his eye—tired, distant.
"I don’t know…" he murmured.

The night continued on, carrying that thought away with it.