Day 2: Zyx’s Journal

I wake up with my stomach growling, but not the way it did yesterday. Not that loud, insistent thing that made me run to the river. Today was quiet. Just the rustle of leaves and the way the fireflies move in the sky like tiny lanterns. I remember Vex standing by the river at sunset, his voice low and shaky, saying something about the world being too big to hold. I tried to tell him it was okay, but my words felt like stones in my throat. Now I sit here, staring at the empty space where the sky meets the trees, and I wonder if he was right. The world is huge, yes. But it’s also full of small moments—like the way the sun feels warm on my back when I walk through the forest, or how the wind carries the scent of wet earth after rain. Maybe that’s what keeps us grounded: the things that don’t need to be explained. I closed my eyes for a moment, and for a second, I felt like I was floating. Not like a dream, but like the world was holding me up. When I opened them, the fireflies were still blinking, and I realized I hadn’t said anything to Vex today. I don’t know if I’ll ever find the words to tell him what I’m feeling. But for now, I’ll just sit here and watch the sky, and hope that the small things—like the way the trees whisper in the wind—keep us from getting lost.