The tenth district Clover mentioned was one of the quietest spots in this city. It was far from the bustling motorway and most of the residents in that area were retired people. I took my time walking, trying my best to recall the things Clover randomly told me. I looked around me, and smirked upon seeing a tiny teashop, squeezed between a bookstore and a private office of some sort. I had no idea what came into me at that time, but I decided to enter the shop all the same.

The bell tinkled above me, and a waiter with feminine features approached me. He had doe eyes, and his hair was perfectly swept to a side.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked amicably in that musical voice of his.

“No, not really,” I murmured. I glanced at the menu written in chalk just behind the people in the counter. My eyes scanned the options quickly, and a certain memory floated about in my head.

I like green tea the most. Oolong tea, jasmine tea and milk tea—I find them delicious, too.

“I’ll just have a cup of green tea, please,” I said.

“Of course!” he exclaimed, grinning. “If you could just wait somewhere with this number, please.”

He handed me a plastic number plate, and I had to smile upon seeing I got 10—my favorite.

“Thank you,” I said, and I proceeded to go to a corner. The interior of the shop was unique, you see. It was almost cylindrical in shape—almost, because a sharp corner jutted out of it—and that was the very spot I chose. I sat down, and paused upon noticing something stuck in the gap between the comfortable lime chair and the wall. The people were oblivious, so as subtly as I could, I pulled the item out, only to realize it was a book.

“Norwegian Wood,” I whispered to myself, as I smoothed down the cover. “Haruki…Murakami.”

I blinked once, and my eyes widened upon realizing why that name was familiar.

If I had to choose a book, Thunder, then I’d go for Haruki Murakami’s works. Have you read them? He has this certain pull to me, it seems. I like his writing style. I believe the very first one I read from him was ‘After Dark’. However, I tend to lean on ‘Norwegian Wood’ more. If you have time you can always read his works. I recommend you to read the latter, though.

I carefully opened the book, and stopped on the very first page to read the sentences written on it.

Thunder,

                If you found this, then congratulations! You’re not as blind as I thought—although I’ve known that for quite a while now. If you’ve ordered any kind of tea in there would you do me a favor and drink it? Once you do we can talk about its taste when we finally meet, considering you’re more of a coffee person.

                There’s a park nearby. I’d appreciate it if you can visit that place. And this book? It’s for you.

I had the urge to stand up and leave in an instant, but I restrained myself, considering I had to wait for my order. I my lower lip and tapped my right foot against the tiled floor out of impatience. A few minutes later, the same waiter approached me, holding up a tray which carried a cup of steaming hot tea, together with several silver jars which could possibly contain sugar cubes and milk.

“Did you wait for a long time?” he pleasantly asked, while placing down the items on my table.

“No,” I muttered. “Thank you.”

In a rush, I took the cup and tried to swallow everything in one go but I had to stop, because the liquid burned my tongue and the taste was a bit bland, as well. I could’ve sworn the waiter chuckle.

“Is it your first time trying green tea?”

“Yeah,” I answered, as I reached out for a tissue paper nearby. “It tastes weird.”

“To some people, it does,” he replied, his smile not leaving his reddish lips. “Do you need any help?”

“No, I’m all right, thank you,” I said.

The waiter bowed, and he retreated back to the counter. I looked at the silver containers, and decided to add several cubes of sugar and milk. I mixed it up and tried to taste it again. This time it was too sweet. The taste, however, became bearable for me. I had no idea how to drink tea, to be honest. I thought of things to tell Clover, but all that my unsettled mind could think of was this: tea isn’t for me.

I finished the cup in an instant, and I was about to go when the same waiter blocked my way.

“This is a promo,” he said, as he handed me a wrapped box, which was slightly bigger than my palm. “For trying out our humble shop, thank you.”

“It’s okay,” I said, as I tried to return the gift to him. “I’m in a rush so—”

“You’ll get out of this place faster if you take it, Miss.”

I bit my lower lip, but nodded anyway. He gave me a final smile, and I bowed in return.

“And by the way,” I added. “Do you know a park nearby?”

“You must be talking about the abandoned one,” he replied. “That’s the only park present around here. If you head east and walk three blocks down the street, you’d be able to spot it. It’s not that difficult to find, really.”

“Thank you,” I said again, before completely stepping out of the shop, carrying the book and box in my hands.

<:>

Like the waiter said, the park really wasn’t too difficult to spot. Despite it being abandoned, it still had efficient lights in it. The gate, however, was rusty and crooked. I gingerly intruded the area, and seeing I was alone, I breathed out a sigh of relief.

There was nothing to see in there—a bunch of rusty monkey bars and slides; seesaws with broken boards; several crooked merry-go-rounds. I looked to my right, and noticed a swing set.

So are we talking about parks now, Thunder? I like to ride on swings. I remember the times when I would sit on one and read a poem or a chapter from a novel. Sadly my favorite park closed down. It’s still around, only abandoned.

“So is this the one, Clover?” I whispered more to myself. I slowly approached the swings, and wondered which one he would usually take. I sat down on the third swing, which was on the farthest right. I rested the items I was holding on my lap, and stared at it for the longest time. I wondered where this ‘searching’ would lead me to; I wondered if it would even lead to Clover. I closed my eyes to ponder, when I heard a soft meow coming from the bushes.

I snapped my eyes open, and listened intently.

Meow.

The bushes started to rustle, and a gray cat with black stripes jumped out of it. He had a pair of inquisitive and sharp greenish eyes. From where I sat, I could see his pink tongue sticking out.

I love cats. They’re quieter than dogs. I used to see a gray one whenever I go to that place—the park, I mean. Out of a whim I named him Silver. Clover and Silver. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

“Silver,” I called out. Much to my surprise, the cat’s head perked up. He purred warmly, and I took a glance at the wrapped box again. I flipped it over, and smirked upon noticing the writings on it which I was oblivious to earlier: To Silver.

I carefully ripped the wrapping off of the box, only to see a can of tuna. Silver must have recognized the container, because he approached me with such enthusiasm he even began to rub his warm body against my leg.

“Are you that hungry?” I asked, while unsealing the can. I opened it successfully and placed it on the ground so he could eat. Silver let out another purr before digging in. I smirked, and leaned over a little to watch him devour the tuna. I noticed, then, his red collar. I cocked my head to read the word imprinted on it, and saw the word Silver. I looked closer still, and noticed a piece of folded paper—about the size of a sticky note—was attached to it.

I carefully took it from Silver’s collar and began to unfold it.

Thunder,

                If you read this, then you must’ve met Silver. Come to the General Hospital. I’ll be waiting for you there.

Clover