An Invitation or Innovation

So, everything led up to a quick, firm decision that echoed through the corridors, leaving a feeling of urgency and finality. In the middle of the people witnessing this important moment, which even I struggled to fully understand, I felt unsure about what was happening. These familiar people in my house added to my confusion, making me wonder why they were there.

Nevertheless, a sense of relief wafted in with the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed tea. It seemed almost reassuring, as though the aromatic tendrils could extend a subtle bridge of understanding to the perplexing guests.

Speaking of guests, the eccentric Sid had been slumbering since his unexpected arrival. A vivid contrast to the steadfast and studious Aksish, who was always engrossed in his books, seemingly impervious to distractions.

Amidst this enigmatic tableau, my solace lay in confiding in Pam, the one who shared my bewilderment. As I handed him the cup of tea, a delicate and soothing fragrance enveloped the surroundings, momentarily suspending our collective curiosity.

Suddenly, like a sleeper stirred by a distant melody, Sid awoke and hastened to seize the waiting tea cup, as if drawn by an invisible thread of aroma and anticipation.

Just as Sid was about to drink, Aksish's careful voice interrupted, "Be careful, Sid. The tea might still be too hot."

Pam and I shared a knowing look, a silent talk that said a lot. In that short moment, I saw something unspoken in his eyes, something that showed he was holding back. When I took the first sip of tea, its nice smell made me feel relaxed, I had to break the quiet and asked Pam, "So, Pam, what do you think?"

Pam's response was a mix of contemplation and perplexity. He held the cup, its contents a swirling mist of possibilities, his words carefully chosen, "What do you mean, exactly?"

I didn't want to confuse him, so I explained gently, "I mean, tell us what you're thinking. Your thoughts might help us understand better."

With a measured touch, Pam placed the cup back onto the slightly weathered surface, a testament to the busyness of our lives. He looked at me, then at Akhish, as if searching for a cue, before finally speaking, "It's just... I can't help but wonder, why an art competition? There are so many other avenues."

Akhish, momentarily detached from the world within his books, offered his perspective, "Indeed, it does raise the question."

And then, in Sid's characteristically candid manner, he chimed in, "By the way, where is this competition even happening? And how does it all fit together?"

At times, I marveled at the intellect and wisdom of my companions, each bringing their unique flavor to our discussions. Even Sid, with all his quirks, had an uncanny ability to cut through the complexities. Yet, none of them seemed to perceive the subtle significance I had stumbled upon while traversing the first corridor of our college campus, right next to the bulletin board.

With a strong feeling, I started sharing my thoughts, "Listen, there's a reason for this. First, she mentioned brushes, and that got my attention. Plus, there's an art festival in three weeks. I know we're not allowed to join as first-year students, but we can create something amazing, a practice piece to show how good we are."

Pam, ever the realist, raised a valid concern, "Can you even draw a straight line?"

A question so simple, yet so undeniably true. Akhish, temporarily setting aside his tome, rose from his seat and joined us, the warmth of the cooling tea inviting him into the conversation. He added, "Considering her familiarity with brushes, she may possess a talent that surpasses your own."

The table was set, not only with cups of tea but with a mosaic of perspectives and opinions. As the mist of our musings swirled around us, I couldn't help but marvel at the richness of our camaraderie, each of us contributing a unique hue to the canvas of our shared experiences.

After a period of silence in the room, only the faint sound of a dripping tap could be heard. Sid, always straightforward, broke the silence, suggesting, "I think we should call upon the Beast."

Although this might sound surreal to everyone else, I grasped the meaning behind his words. "Yes, we have him," I responded, a glimmer of hope now hanging in the air.

Yet, Pam and Akhish remained puzzled and perplexed. Akhish's calm demeanor vanished, and he exclaimed, "No, not him. Not."

Pam, impatient, chimed in, "What are you guys even talking about?"

This part of the story was deeply ingrained in Akhish's mind. Sid and I were privy to it, but Pam was in the dark due to his absence. We hadn't considered sharing it with him before, but I felt the time had come.

And so, I began recounting the tale of a figure from our high school days – an individual with a menacing presence, sporting long black hair and an impressive talent for art. He constantly had his hands busy on the canvas throughout the day. At that moment, Pam interjected with a word, "Oh, you mean Jerez?"

"Yes, he might be of good assistance to us," Pam, always pragmatic and in tune with our thoughts, pointed out.

And thus, it was decided that Sid and I would meet with Jerez over the weekend. While Akhish was reluctant, Pam, still unaware of the full story, convinced him to accompany him as their homes were on the same route. Just as I bid Sid farewell at the main gate of our residence, I turned to head back to my room.

As I did, I spotted Dr. Olsan approaching. I paused and greeted him, "Hello, Dr. Olsan. What brings you here?"

He mentioned that his blonde cat, Feso, had gone missing in the area. I offered, "Do you need any help searching?"

"No, it's alright," he replied.

I then inquired about the elderly lady, "By the way, how is the old lady doing?"

"She's doing better now, and a family member came to pick her up," he informed me.

Relieved to hear that she was safe, Dr. Olsan and I exchanged a few words before he set off to search for his cat, and I returned to my room. I proceeded to clean up, prepare dinner, and retire early.

Amidst these swift activities, I found myself preparing for what lay ahead. The sun had yet to cast its full brightness, with only a hint of its rays on the horizon. No laughter filled the air, yet I was wide awake.

Oh, the reason for my alertness, you might wonder. Well, it's not that I forgot – rather, I chose not to reveal it to all of you. Just as my life bears an air of mystery, I saw no reason to not maintain the same with you.

Allow me to unveil the rationale: a letter had been left in my mailbox just before I returned home from speaking with Dr. Olsan. The letter spoke of someone who wished to meet me early in the morning before the college was bustling with activity.

And so, here I am, ready for this encounter. I donned the same attire as yesterday – a longline shirt, denim jeans, a discreet bandage over my left hand, and my right eye patch. Now, I am fully prepared to discover the identity of this early-morning visitor.