The Alien Diplomat

The answer

it was not in the dictionary at home nor the more updated ones at school. The encyclopedia in the school's library didn't spill a word about how to buy one. How to find something he needed so badly?
At the end of classes, he took place in the shared community place. Rugsack on the table, books and laptop open. From a distance, all would believe the nerd was studying. No one would dare to take a seat at the same table. It was occupied by the one they all secretly envied. What did they know? His head hurt, and he had a hard time fighting the chaos in his head. He sighed while he searched the internet for a moment he stared at the plaster that seemed to have the courage to leave the place it was ordered to be.

... why design something new if old works fine...the words on his screen rang a bell. That sentence must have been sent by heaven he knew where to get the desired item. A bit of practising was all he needed. He smiled. It would all work out fine. In silence, he thanked the sky and the spirits for sending the needed information.

She had observed him for several weeks. From a distance, she followed the young man who for an undefined reason made her see clouds on a sunny day. The area where he led her too had a run-down infrastructure and was unfamiliar to her. The streets were crowded and for a moment she thought she'd lost him.

There it was. The old building was once a school but today what they all call 'the museum'. Over decades, it had become a repository of what had been seized by bailiffs. None of it had ever been bought back by the destitute owner and the bailiff's office had never sold anything. His head throbbed as if saying: let's go in and put an end to it. A burden fell from his shoulders, confidently he opened the door and disappeared inside. Soon everything would be better.

She hesitated. What was it he'd looking at? A man with a cap bumped into her without noticing her or apologizing. Hastily he continued his way and disappeared in the crowd.

Don't contact him, Jason, don't do it. The old concierge wasn't fast enough to follow the young man through the corridors of the building where he had spent most of his life.

Jason!

A soft plop sounded inside.

Who are you, he asked in surprise.

She laughed and held out her hand. Think, don't you remember me?

You are my alien diplomat. Have you been waiting for me?

How is your headache?

It is over.

Relieved, he grabbed her hand and smiled at her. From now on he would be fine.

It's good to see you again. You look great!

Please, do not post in the soul of this writer. If you have a #story to share you can call me @hive-169911 or use #hive-169911

Header: Canva
Picture: boy at the table
Prompts: written in bold + picture
Date: 10-6-2024

#story #krsuccess #pic1000 #creativewriting #kittywu