I left the cafe without even saying goodbye to Alice who was busy tending to the costumers or her co-workers who just keeping passing my glances and acting as if I can’t see the collective stares they give in unison. I waved a small goodbye to the large dog who sat near the exit, looking as if he was guarding the door, and then left.

Walking through the same streets as last night had a different feel to it now that I’m seeing it in broad day light. The streets are busy, a plethora of people walking in different paces, some sat in the benches under the shade of the tall trees. It was breezy today, leaves from the tears would fly off in the air or move around the ground. Vendors were open and lively, selling candy, balloons, anything that a kid would take fancy in, other vendors sold a variety of items like fans, scrunchies and umbrellas. I walked through the bustling day time avenue of Barlon differently now that I’m taking the time to observe my surroundings.

I’ve always been in my room making videos that I barely get a chance to walk around in my neighborhood, always going to some far off country side and visiting places related to ghostly history, then back home, never really taking a moment to pause and just…walk. The streets were full of people of all kinds, the fairy lights were lifeless while everything around basked in the sunlight. Too much of it is what I’d like to say if it weren’t for the large greenery of trees shading me the whole walk home. I could see the small ray of sunlight that sparkled in between the shadows of the trees, the small holes in between the bushy leaves that let the sunlight through made the place to glimmer.

In the midst of a relaxing walk, I couldn’t help but think of the things I found odd when I visited Arcana. What’s with the drink? Why did she need to take it back if I needed to see her boss? What would’ve happened if I drank it? but most notably, out of all my questions, Will I really get to see her again?

I guess I have to wait until later to find out. For now, the only thing that I should be thinking about is checking if my video rendered properly. I went back home and once I arrived, I saw the unpleasant sight of my room. My face crumpled like paper seeing how unsightly this room looks, pillows and clothes thrown unto each other on the bed, notebooks and gaming cards stacked up onto one another in a irritatingly uneven pile and the stench of instant noodles emanating from the trash bin filled to the brim.

“I really should clean up.” I muttered to myself. “Maybe later.” I dismissed and shift my attention to my laptop with a screen that was completely dark. I stuttered to say anything and quickly went close to it to press the button on the middle of the keyboard, just above the keys. I paused for a moment, waiting until a small light would open after I clicked on the power button, but nothing happened.

A groan slipped out of my mouth once I realized I went to Arcanus and left my laptop open with the little battery percentage it had left after a whole night of rendering. I stood there regretting my ignorance on, what appears to be, something so trivial as draining my laptop, but I can’t afford to lose the files I have in there. My video that just rendered, documents I have yet to open and or review, and my scripts for future Open Cases video, all those are important.

I push aside the diverse heap of junk and litter on top of my desk in hopes to find my laptop charger. My hands brush pass a couple of sticky notes that lost its stick and fell on top of my desk. I hesitated to move my hand, keeping it on top of the pile of notes. The words Alice told me rung at the back of my head, the phrase I paid little to no attention to because of my embarrassment back in the cafe.

Check your notes. I’m sure you’ll find something.

It’s strange. That whole sentence sent chills up my spine. It was too specific. It probably was a vague hint to something else, a phrase I probably shouldn’t take literally, but I can’t help but take it that way. I brushed off the thought and reached for a black thin wire coiled behind my laptop. I hooked it up and plugged it in and just like that, the small light I was waiting for earlier lit up.

I had to endure another round of waiting just to get my video posted online and scheduled for next week. While I bathe in the silence, my eyes dart back to the notes on my desk and the ones on my wall. I rolled my eyes, taking a step back, leaning away from any notes I, myself, made for me to check up sooner or later. I stood there in silence, taking a deep breath. The image of the woman from last night popped up in my head for a split second. Have I met this woman before? Did she meet me? Did I leave a note about her? In a fan meet or convention maybe? Question after question and wild guesses flew by my thoughts so much so that I couldn’t keep track of which one to think about first.

I took a peak to see if my laptop did me a favor and open up a millisecond faster than usual. Disappointment painted my face as I fight the urge to give in to my irrational speculations. Taking a step closer to my desk, I scan the notes. I’m sure there’s nothing to think about, it’s stupid to even contemplate on, what might be, just a misunderstanding on my part. My eyes keep scanning the notes, reading memos about a video or reminders about events.

Double check your “from” always typo to “form” in script.

Buy groceries, you loser.

Note: Meeting with the group tomorrow.

Be suspicious, that’s your job.

Nothing. Just past reminders that I forgot to throw away. I immediately grabbed the one that called me a loser. Granted, that was my note to myself, but it ticked me off a bit, so I crumpled the note and tossed it to the trash bin in attempts to shoot it in it’s mouth that was over flowing with trash. I turned to the wall and my eyes move instantly to the note at the center of the wall right in front of me, the question I will never answer, surrounded by mundane notes I have to remember. I smile a bit, surprised to see how nice my hand writing looks in that one note. The others look like I wrote it in a hurry. I admit, my handwriting in general looks like I’m always in a hurry, but maybe I took my time to write this properly because it looks nicely written. I don’t remember how long I had this note up my wall, but I’m pretty sure it was when I started doing Open Cases online. I, metaphorically, pat myself at the back with this trivial achievement I have in regards to my handwriting while I go back to the ones on the desk and move them around, flipping over blank ones while trying to convince myself that I’m checking these notes unironically, but that’s a trick I repeatedly tell myself to avoid drawing any silly conclusions.