Strangely, it was the fox-and-cat version that he found in the little book. It was hard to forget. The lyrics had been scribbled in there under two blobs with pointy ears that he assumed were a fox and a cat—disrespectfully so. Above that was what looked like several melting broomsticks that he assumed was the golden-rain tree; and around all that, was a vast, wiry, scratched up splotch that attempted to look like the sea, rain and sunshine. Sort of, maybe. If you squinted enough, and if you were drunk enough.

The only lyrics he’d ever come across within the cursed pages of the little book, and here it was cheerily drifting down town. He tried not to laugh.

A little bit of silly never hurt me.

Half-focused on the melody, he slowed down to a careful saunter. Looking around, he narrowed his eyes at the name-boards. Hopefully he hadn’t missed the spot.

His feet paused in front of an old, double-story tiled-roof shop, its signboard reading ‘Airavara Bookstore’. The music sounded much further away, but it was still loud enough to hear. The song looped from the beginning.

“When rain dances with sunshine,”

Looking around, his gaze landed on a slate signboard by the entrance; a welcome-sign with details about books on sale. As he began to read it, he suddenly froze in place; a fresh chill running down his spine.

“The fox and cat shall marry; Under a golden-rain tree.”

His gaze darted across the splotchy, jerky words, his eyes widening and lips slowly parting at the unbelievably familiar handwriting.

“You’re mine, all mine;”

Every single jagged line and ill-placed curve, scrawled in chalk. He’d seen them before, written with ink on paper. His gaze desperately roved across the signboard, unable to believe any of it. He knew those sharp, straight lines; the hasty edges and shoddy spacing of a person who probably thought faster than they could write.

“Eyes like stars in the sky; Yet not a soul left to see;”

Mouth running dry, a heavy pit formed in his stomach. His breathing quickened, tongue flitting out to lick his lips. The cheerful melody continued in the background while his thoughts raced. Inside his pocket, the little book sat firm in his grip.

“At Sunshower Grove, by the sea.”

The song would’ve ended there, but it immediately began to repeat much like his racing thoughts. Trying not to spiral, he inched closer to the entrance and sucked in his teeth.

No way, No f—king way, is it, is it them? It can’t be. How?! Are they really, really, really here? Oh gods, oh gods, no. No, wait. What if it’s not them, what if its just a coincidence, what if it’s just some crazy person, what if it’s all just—

“Suu,” a masculine, gravelly voice called from within the bookstore, jolting Vi out of his thoughts. “Did you make sure you put up the right sign outside?” the voice asked.

Vi swallowed hard and chewed his lower lip, his fingers digging into the book in his pocket. Right then, a feminine voice yelled back from somewhere within the store.

“I did, Pa!” the voice whined angrily. “What kinda bum messes up a job that simple anyway,” she sounded about as vexed as her words. “Only wrong signs I’m putting up is when I’m racing a bus!”

The masculine voice groaned and sighed. “All because she couldn’t get a heavy vehicle license,” the voice muttered softly. “The bus-drivers knew better than to let an unhinged kid join their ranks.”

The conversation seemed to end there with no further replies from the feminine voice. Vi leaned beside the entrance and stared at the board for several minutes feeling lost, the sound of his pulse thundering in his ears. He blinked slow and steady, taking mental notes of the words he’d just heard. Words that he’d read before. He wondered if this was what reincarnation felt like, and took several deep, grounding breaths. If reincarnation felt like this, maybe being stuck in an endless loop of rebirth wouldn’t seem so bad; at least it would be funny.

Looking up at the signboard one last time to confirm he was at the right place, he exhaled hard. Then, he straightened himself up, put on his professional poker-face, and walked inside.

The music faded away into a distant buzz as Vi entered the store. Careful not to make any noise, he controlled his breathing and began to look around. The place was rather small, but well-lit. Cool daylight poured in from glass windows while the overhead light-slabs shimmered low with reflected light. Several rows of bookshelves towered up to the ceiling, stacked with colorful book-spines. 

On the right side behind the counter, wooden glass-lattice sliding-doors seemed to cordon-off what looked like an art studio; judging from the jars of gamboge and rows of canvas that sat in a wonky pile by the door. A faint smell of paint and pine oil wafted across the space. Beyond the foggy glass of the closed sliding-doors, Vi could make out the faint silhouette of someone hunched over, presumably painting. Possibly the male voice he’d heard before. But he couldn’t be sure just yet. The store seemed devoid of people. 

But wait, the feminine voice.

He was sure that person was in there. A small part of him hoped all of this was just one long fever-dream, but a much larger part of him was far, far too excited. Finally, he was so, so close to finding the person who matched the madness in his little book. But did he want to see? Knowing that this person was probably a girl?

What if she hated men, what if was married, what if she was—

He shrugged and took a deep breath again. Worst comes to worst, he’d probably just leave and never come back. People deserved peace, especially if the people in question took lesson-notes like certified gangsters. That little book belonged to him now anyway, it was all his. Finders keepers, or something like that. Yes?

He bit down a laugh when he remembered his Mom’s constant yes’ at the end of her sentences. Ah, Mom. The list.

Falling back to reality, his toes curled as they gripped his sandals. Get your sh*t together, dude. Like a moth to a fire, he searched the little store for the owner of the feminine voice; until he suddenly stilled at the sound of a distant scritch-scratch. For a moment, he wondered if it was the sound of someone writing.

No way, there’s no way, he frowned.

Jerking his head towards the noise, he slowly moved towards it, his jaw set tight and his heart pounding in his chest.

The sound came from the far-end row of the store, bright light from the windows lighting it up. Vi exhaled deeply and clenched his fists inside his pockets as he approached the shelves. There, a figure stood in the distance, in front of the windows. Light surrounded them; and Vi blinked several times to adjust his vision. And then he saw her.

A young woman stood hunched over, scribbling away at something on the shelf. Several stray curls danced around her face, illuminated by the light. Crossing and uncrossing her arms, she seemed entirely engrossed with writing something; and it was only then that Vi realized the dozens of ‘labels’ lining the shelf edges. Briefly glancing to the ones on his side, he realized they were single-line summaries of the books above them; written in a nearly-identical handwriting as the one in his little book.

It was impossible, he was sure of it, but proof stared at him right in the face. Literally so, because when he brought his gaze back to the woman, his eyes locked with hers.

Cat-like honey-brown eyes stared right into him, her eyebrows knitting into a slight frown. Although her face turned towards him, she was still hunched over with the pen’s nib still touching the shelf edge. Daylight outlined her into a halo-like figure; and he clenched down his teeth to stop his jaw from going slack.

Oh, no.

For the first time in his twenty-one years of existence, Vi felt absolutely exposed, his face feeling like it was on fire. He swallowed hard and stared back, his racing thoughts now coming to a screeching, grinding halt. But right as he began to tear his gaze away, the young woman’s frown vanished.

His lips parted again as he watched a warm smile spread across her face.

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