If the chilling zephyr that navigated around my body did not send shivers down my spine, or if I did not feel the immense need to squint at the lucid sun that cradled me in its warmth, I would have assumed I was in a dream...one that was unusually surreal. It felt like my consciousness was slowly crawling back again after who knows what amount of time I was gone. But as I started to realize what was happening, the hazy spell I was under quickly broke. A whip of shock struck me immediately after, but not without a sensation of wonder and excitement from performing a miracle I would have previously found only in the form of written word or the wandering daydreams of mankind. I couldn’t even blink at that moment...I was dumbfounded.

The afternoon skies stretched as far as the eye could see, and there was no land in sight below me. I couldn’t seem to get anywhere despite struggling to free myself from a fixed point. Though the uncertainty of death was still in the air, the hammock of quiet skies and the occasional misty ghost passing by was, thankfully, soothing and distracting—easing the endless stream of “what if’s” instilled in my mind.

I closed my eyes and smiled. After all, such a rare, placid atmosphere where I felt truly at peace is something to behold when I do happen upon it. A moment like this should not be wasted for a second. I laid back to face the sun, put my hands on top of my stomach, and became conscious of my breathing. It was just me and the sky. That’s all I needed to think about.

The selcouth of tranquility enlightened me, even if it was just for a brief moment. For once in my life, I felt safe and sound. No intrusive thoughts or worries were present in my mind in that instant. The sound of the wind rushing past my ears filled in the gaps for me. My entirety soon became a reverie, absent of any fear or anxiety. Perhaps this incident would’ve turned out to be a blessing...a sign that I was going to be okay in the end.

After a long enough time, I slowly opened my eyes again, expecting to find the familiar blue sky around me. To my surprise, what I found instead was a small, peach-colored note held in front of my round spectacles.

Startled enough to arouse me from my meditative state, my eyes went wide and my breath was lost to the wind. I sat up (as much as I could, suspended in the air) and gazed at its bearer. A beautiful little girl, possessing remarkable azure eyes and ivory skin, somehow stood beside me in the sky. Waves of blonde hair danced behind her in the breeze, and her lacy white dress fluttered along in unison. Upon seeing my bewilderment, she smiled brightly at me, still holding the note for me to take.

I glanced at the child, and then back at the note, and then back at the child. What was happening in front of me? Was this girl an...angel? If that was the case, then surely I had been graced by God! ...Whatever had I done to be worthy of all this?

But alas, whisking away the hopeful fog in my mind, I realized there could be no such scenario in today’s world. Such chronicled events happened millenniums ago. It is unlikely humanity may ever be worthy to witness something like it again. Though, how I got to be falling for eternity in the first place was still a question I wouldn’t have been able to answer.

I cleared my throat and regained my composure, finally taking the note from her hand. The note was adorned with simple doodles of little flowers, surrounding a neatly written message. It simply read, “Hello there. What is your name?”

Realizing I hadn’t spoken once yet, I took a blank for a second, but then looked up at the girl and answered.

“M-My name is...Bobby. It’s quite relieving to see you, actually.”

The girl took out a notebook from behind her—one with many more pastel-colored notes inside of them—and wrote on the front page with a small pink pen. She then ripped the note out and handed it to me. This note was of a cream color, and the handwriting on it read, “Bobby? Well, that’s a wonderful name.”

I felt my ears reddening with embarrassment. Truth be told, I’m not used to taking compliments very much, but I NEVER get compliments for my name, for it sounds so plain to the average set of ears. I was unsure how to give a genuine-sounding reply, but I ended up bashfully responding with a simple “thank you for the compliment” accompanied with a sad smile.

The girl had already written her next note when I put the rest of the notes in my lap. This one read, “I’m here to ask you questions about yourself. It’s part of my duties as a servant to my master.”

Her...master? To my surprise, the theory I had disregarded as impossible turned out to be just as plausible after all. Whatever negativity was still in my body washed away with relief. Well, perhaps this child really was a servant of God, here to give me guidance. Maybe she would have been able to answer my questions, but it felt better to save them since we already started, just to be polite.

The rest of the note read, “Here is your first question. What is your favorite kind of dessert?”

I gladly answered her (admittedly odd) first question without reluctance.

“Oh! My favorite dessert is cheesecake—I particularly favor strawberry cheesecake.” I sighed at the thought, yearning to experience its lush and custardy texture again.

The girl handed me another note. “Cheesecake! That happens to be my favorite too! How lovely! I only asked because I would like to accommodate you after your long journey here. It must have left you exhausted. Please, look behind you.”

Curious, I turned my head to look behind me. Lo and behold: a slice of strawberry cheesecake and an intricately designed fork laid on a porcelain plate that rested on air, inviting me to take it. I turned back and opened my mouth to insist I was alright without it, but her gentle expression cut me off and said all I needed to hear. I turned back around, a bit more confident in accepting the gift. I grabbed the plate from its place, and used the fork to cut the cheesecake into smaller pieces.

Then, I took a bite.

It was just as delectable and rich as I wanted it to be.

I savored it for a moment before swallowing, and afterwards, I thanked the girl for the unexpected treat. She nodded and smiled with glee, fidgeting with her notebook, delighted that she made me feel happy.

But, as I continued to eat, the girl looked troubled while writing yet another note for me. She wrote something on one pastel note, but then crumpled it up and threw it into the void behind her. I wanted to ask what was bothering her, but on my last remaining bite, she decided on a final message and handed it to me.

“This question might be a little personal, but please be honest for our sakes. I don’t want to sugarcoat it, but...

“Well, I suppose I’ll just say it. Have you ever...killed anything, or anyone?”

When I read this question, the relief left my body as soon as it entered. The fork that was stabbing the last bite of cheesecake started to slip out of my hands as I looked back at her with uncertainty. The serious expression she wore clashed with her previously sunny disposition. The question’s tone made me feel anxious, but I tried to brush it off. Maybe this was just a normal question for this kind of interrogation, to determine my...sins...?

...Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but I decided to go off on a limb and answer honestly for this question. I confidently answered back to her, “if I ever committed such a horrendous act, I would have immediately sought repentance. But I have not admitted to it, and I am disgusted at the thought of it.”

“I see. Where do you live? I live in a wonderful neighborhood filled with boys and girls just like me!”

I hesitated to respond to her question, processing the sudden shift in tone. My doubts about her innocence and her motives were becoming more justified by the second, but looking not to displease her for a variety of reasons, I tried to reply to her as soon (and as fast) as I could.

My voice slightly quivered as I spoke. “I live with my mother, Jo, in Spokane.” That was all I said. I tried not to look vulnerable as she continued to ask me questions.

“Would you say you are a bad person?”

She...did it again. I attempted to ignore the bizarre rhyme or reason behind her questions.

“I’d like to believe I am doing my best.”

“Mm-hm. Do you have any friends or family? Please, tell me all about them!”

Trying to think of an answer, I remember Jo telling stories of her golden years as a teenager, and my best friend Casey counting the stars in the woods, and Señor Pérez tending to his humble garden alone. But I threw those thoughts away. I tried to smile at her, scratching the reddening eczema on my arms, as I croaked out an answer.

“Well...I’m sorry, but I don’t have any friends. I can’t say I have any family, either.”

I immediately regretted saying that, because it contradicted what I said earlier. How much does she really know, anyway...? What...what does this say about ME?

I swallowed hard, not knowing what she would do with my white lie, and took her next note.

“Oh...I see you’re getting anxious. I’m sorry I have to do this to you. I really didn’t want to, but you see...my master told me I had to.”

“Ah--I..." I paused for a second. Was I that obvious...?

I looked down at my lap. I didn’t realize I was fidgeting with the notes I collected from her already. Some of the notes in the pile were deformed.

Whatever intentions an audience has doesn’t matter—I always try to make a good impression to appear professional, and affable. I work on it often, but some things tend to...slip through. I messed up too many times already, I couldn’t afford to mess up more, so I had to keep my impression up.

But, on a more important note, I forgot I was even answering for the girl’s... “master.” I projected these evils onto her, although I still didn’t know the true motivation behind these questions, whether they were going to be used for benevolent purposes or for something much more sinister. Her master forced her into interrogating me? Who else was she—or HE—doing this to?

"That...that sounds..."

...Wait, what am I doing? I shook off my nervous tendencies again and looked at the rest of the note. It read, “Do you enjoy being alive?”

Showing weakness is not going to get me anywhere. I have to act strong for this stranger, I told myself.

“Yes, I love being alive. It is something I do not wish to take for granted, or lose direction in.”

“Do you know anyone who has died?”

“I d-don’t personally know anyone who has died.” My mask was slipping. My mask was slipping, as much as I tried to stop it from slipping. I was already quivering a bit at this point and it was all going to go down from there. What did I expect? My thoughts only start and stop, constantly. I did everything wrong, I overthought everything. I can’t ever escape my own self, not even in those skies. What did I expect?

...What I didn’t expect was the last note she handed me, that was the last straw.

“Are you cute when you cry, Bobby? In my opinion, I think you would look just adorable when you do.”

My eyes went wide. I put my hand over my mouth in shock, knocking over the rest of the notes out of my lap.

“...Wh...why...would you ever say that to me?”

I was at a loss of words, unable to look at the note anymore. What was she trying to express? Ridicule? Sympathy? Admiration? Why? I hate admitting these things about myself to a stranger. I hate being forced to do things like this, things I really don’t want to do. I hate being played with like this. I hate it all. I didn’t want to answer her questions anymore. But I had committed myself to answering them, and so I had to proceed. This was a mistake. This was a MISTAKE. I didn’t know if she could have freed me when she was done, or I was stuck in the skies for eternity answering this girl. But...I worked myself up so much, my throat was tightened up. My voice was stuck. It couldn’t have mattered after that. I couldn’t have answered her, not even if I tried. My cheeks flushed, and salty tears rose up, stinging in my eyes. I guess she got her answer.

I dropped the note and cupped my face to hide this overwhelming weakness. But my sobbing continued. Short squeals slid out of my throat, my mental state engulfing in anxiety and my body feeling more and more ill. My mind repeated the question, along with the repeating cacophony of pleas. Words I wanted to say, but I couldn’t verbalize. I’m not cute when I cry. I’m not cute when I cry. I’m not cute. I’m not. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.

I don’t. I don’t. I don’t. I don’t want to talk. Just, just please don’t get mad at me. Please don’t get mad at me. Please understand. Don’t get mad at me. Don’t hate me for this. Don’t hurt me for it.

Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me. It hurts so much already! It hurts! Don’t hurt me! Don’t HURT ME! DON’T HURT ME! DON’T HURT ME! PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T HURT ME! DON’T HURT ME! DON’T HURT ME! DON’T HURT ME! DON’T HURT ME! DON’T HURT ME! I JUST WANT IT TO STOP! I WANT TO GET OUT OF THIS FUCKING NIGHTMARE ALREADY! I’M SUFFOCATING! SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF HERE! ANYTHING BUT THIS! ANYTHING! ANYTHING!!

...anything...I’ll do anything...please...I beg you...don’t hurt me...

...

The last thing I saw when I released my hands was not the girl. She was gone. Instead, a singular note hovered in her place. I reached out and grabbed it, taking off my glasses and wiping away the bitter tears from my raw face to read it. When I put my glasses back on, I read her final message.

“I’m sorry he had to do this to you. I...didn’t mean to hurt you. You were only overthinking, right...? It makes me sad to see you like this. You have to leave soon, now. Please don’t worry about me, though, I will be alright staying with him. Don’t suffer for me, okay?”

Before I could process what she meant, I felt myself gradually getting even more drained, slipping away. Then, I finally faded from the skies.