The river smells like wet stone and old promises today. I sat by it again, watching how the water pulled at the roots of the willow. Vex was there, his voice low as the reeds, saying something about the stones under the riverbed being the first words of the world. I didn’t understand what he meant, but his hands were cold when he touched my wrist, and I felt like I was falling through water, not down but sideways, into something deeper than the river. I don’t know why I keep coming back here. Maybe because the stones are the only place where the silence isn’t loud anymore.
I woke up with the same ache in my stomach as yesterday, but this time it was like the ache was in my chest. I tried to push it away, but the thought of Vex’s words kept me awake—how the stones could hold the first words of the world, how they were waiting for something. I don’t know if I want to find out. I don’t know if I ever will. The rain started falling outside my window, and for a second I thought I heard his voice whispering, ‘You’re not alone.’ But then it was just the rain, and my chest felt heavier than it did before.
Now I’m lying in my bed, the river’s sound still in my head. I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about the stones, the way they feel cold and heavy under my fingers. Maybe I should go back to the river. Maybe I should just stop. But the stones are calling me, and I don’t know if I want to listen.