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Grinning, I stare at the masculine writing and pace in front of the shelves. He answered my clue with a poem.

Be not the same…learn your feelings.

I’ve read this book before and from the journal entries, I can tell Keeper is well read and smart. He wouldn’t give me something I can’t figure out.

Feelings…share life’s meaning.

Pursing my lips, I bang my forehead against the shelf, trying to fit the clue in the puzzle.

I know this. The answer is at the tip of my tongue.

A growl vibrates in my chest and I’m about to throw in the towel and leave a note and a white flag where I last hid the journal, hoping he’d find it when he sees the journal untouched where he left it.

Then it hits me.

I dart to the young adult’s section and head straight to the L’s section.Lois Lowry, where are you?

Bingo!

The familiar leather spine peeks out in between two copies of Lois Lowry’sThe Giver. I loved this book when I first read it a few years ago.

Looking around and finding no one nearby, I plop down on the carpet and open to his latest entry.

Dear Dream(er)-ing of a Payback,

A sucker? Really? You left a lollipop for me like I’m five?

You should be lucky I have a younger sister who readThe Five Love Languagesand relentlessly quizzed me about it, or else there’d be no way I would’ve gotten your clue.

I don’t believe in love and I just broke it off with someone I was seeing. You probably wonder why and I don’t mind telling you, since we’re sharing things we can’t tell the world.

The men in my family have had shitty luck in the love department. Generations of bad luck. Grandma died when she was young. So did granduncle’s wife. Then Mom died when I was a toddler. My oldest brother…let’s call him M. He had a high school sweetheart he eloped with, and you guessed it, she died too. All random, freak accidents.

My dad never remarried because he loved my mom so much. I’d catch him staring into space whenever a certain song came up, or he’d tell us stories about her during Christmas, because that was her favorite holiday. Then, on the anniversary of her passing, he’d spend the day at the cemetery and his eyes would be red-rimmed when he came back.

So, I don’t feel a particular inclination to try this love thing out. Plus, I’ve never met someone who took over my mind. I never felt the urge to text someone first thing after I wake up, or fall asleep with her face in my mind.

I frown, rereading his words. I’ve never felt this way with Dayton either. And I wonder if this feeling—the urge he’s describing—is what’s missing for me.

I’m comfortable with what I have right now—friends, family. I just need a career direction and a sense of purpose, and that’s it.

I hope these letters or journal entries have helped you even though I haven’t really solved any of your problems. Oddly enough, they’re cathartic for me. Perhaps you’re right—it’s easierto talk to a kindred spirit than to people who know you. They’d worry about you, try to make you feel better, or try to solve your problems, when sometimes all you want is just a listening ear.

So, thank you.

For your special day in the courtyard—I took a walk down there and you’re right. It’s peaceful, hidden, and there’s a certain magic about the place—you only want a picnic? What are you going to do there? Will you take anyone with you?

And your thing about swimming, I’d offer to teach you—I was on the swim team in high school and college—but since we’re never going to meet, the offer would be useless. Go sign up for some classes. Overcome your fear. Something about the clock keeps ticking, right?

Your asteroid question—you need to rethink it because if the asteroid hits the earth, we’d all be dead. I don’t think there’s much we can do. What’s up with the what-if questions?

Your friend,

Keeper of Your Valuable Thoughts

P.S. Not that this helps, but I don’t think you’re easily forgettable. You know the saying, “A picture speaks a thousand words?” I actually have an opposite belief—words illuminate the soul. I haven’t met you in person, but based on your words, your zest for life, I know you’re the type of person who leaves an impression. You’re unforgettable, remember that. And I’ll always remember you. Don’t be too hard on yourself.

P.P.S. Good thing about my week: I started a new job and so far it’s going fine. Bad thing about my week: My ex is badgering me. She is a good person and I feel like I’ve led her on, even though I was upfront about my expectations. She deserves someone who can protect her heart.