Lucas.

He's strange, maybe as strange as I am. Every now and then he would come by to my cliff with the ocean view and sit by me to say hi. At first, I thought it was another person pulling a joke on me, but he insisted he wanted to know just what exactly was it that I wanted to say. I gave him several warnings, but each answer he nodded with a sincere smile, a smile I don't remember seeing from anyone before. Even though that smile was sincere, it was sad, kinda like mines were. But anyway, I could hardly remember what I talked about, but sometimes he'd chuckle or look at me with pure focus and it was surprising!

Most people would start to drift out and stare at the ocean, and hope I would just stop, but I don't. I don't stop 'cause I hope that the next thing I say would be interesting and they would turn to look at me and go, "That's interesting!". But they don't. Some even leave right when I'm talking, but I keep talking to pretend I don't notice. If you haven't notice, I talk a lot to get over and distract myself from a lot of things. I even talk a lot to try and seem cultured and interesting, but I come off as annoying instead.

When Lucas listened to me, I quizzed him on a few things that I've brought up, and surprisingly he brought up the correct answer to all of them! He listened! And then he suggested that I either write my stories or speak stories; starting out fictional. I was thinking of writing, but then I worried that I would use too much ink, and that made him laugh and he told me not to worry about it. The next time I saw him, he gave me a pretty pink book and a feathered pen. It wasn't like the new books in the modern Tazmilly.

That was another thing I thought Lucas was strange about; everything about him was old. He was like an old person in a young, bright, and handsome body. I heard old people like to listen a lot, so maybe he is old on the inside! Sometimes he'd talk to me instead of just listen, but his answers weren't as long winded as mines, but they were always significant enough to brew even more conversation. One time I even rambled 'till sunset to him.

The more he came, the more he talked, or at least try to little by little. He always would bring something over and show it to me, he was more of a show and express than a show and tell person. It was funny seeing him try to find ways to vividly explain whatever he brought over for me to see. Or how to teach me how to write a story. It seems that he wrote stories in all kinds of ways. I think I wanna do that too.

Anyway, one time, he suggested that I go on a walk with him to pick up sea shells and we did pick up a bunch of them. It was really fun, even if a bunch of people stared at us, especially when I would ramble on about sand drawings with the big stick he brought over that he said belonged to his twin that was missing at the time. But after that...

I came to the conclusion that he was just as lonely as I was.