Chapter 34: The Pencil Remembers
The Dream House
Book One
Some objects don't have value because they're expensive.
They have value because of the hands that held them before yours.
Monday morning.
Rain tapped gently against my apartment window.
I sat at my desk staring at the old pencil.
The same pencil.
The same sketchbook.
The same unanswered messages.
Nothing had changed.
Except...
Me.
I reached for my phone.
Opened my conversation with Sinnad.
Read every message again.
None of them sounded guilty.
None of them sounded suspicious.
They sounded...
Like him.
Kind.
Patient.
Honest.
I sighed.
"Then why can't I shake this?"
I locked the phone and pushed it away.
Work first.
Feelings later.
An hour passed.
The pencil moved across the page almost by itself.
The burned building slowly appeared.
Brick by brick.
Window by window.
Door...
Still closed.
When I finished...
I froze.
There it was again.
The number.
714
I hadn't meant to draw it.
In fact...
I couldn't even remember seeing it.
Yet every sketch somehow included it.
I flipped back through older pages.
Nothing.
No number.
Only the recent drawings.
Every single one...
I whispered to myself,
"What are you trying to tell me?"
That afternoon...
The bell above Imani Barbershop rang.
Miss Carmen stepped inside carrying a small paper bag.
Ruth hurried over.
"Miss Carmen!"
The elderly woman smiled warmly.
"I brought lemon loaf."
"You know that's my weakness."
"I know."
Sinnad walked from the back of the shop.
"Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon, young man."
She handed him a slice before taking a seat near the window.
Business was slow.
Only one customer remained.
The room felt peaceful.
Miss Carmen watched Sinnad sweep the floor.
"You've inherited your father's habit."
He looked up.
"Sweeping?"
She smiled.
"No."
She pointed gently toward the waiting chairs.
"Serving people before yourself."
He smiled softly.
"I learned from watching him."
"No."
She shook her head.
"You learned from becoming him."
The words lingered in the room.
Even Ruth looked up.
Miss Carmen quietly sipped her tea.
Then asked,
"Have you seen Maya lately?"
Sinnad hesitated.
"Not really."
"Hm."
"You two had a disagreement?"
"I honestly don't know."
Miss Carmen nodded.
"I figured."
"You did?"
She smiled.
"Silence always tells me when young people are thinking too much."
Ruth laughed.
"That's... surprisingly accurate."
Miss Carmen reached into her purse.
Pulled out a folded photograph.
She slid it across the table toward Sinnad.
"I think..."
She said softly,
"...it's time."
He looked down.
The old photograph showed the burned building.
But...
It wasn't burned.
Children stood on the front porch.
Flowers filled the garden.
Paintings hung inside the windows.
The building looked...
Alive.
Sinnad looked at the address written on the back.
His eyes widened.
"You've been there before."
Miss Carmen smiled gently.
"Oh, child..."
She looked toward the window.
"...I was there long before any of you."
Across town...
I couldn't stop staring at my latest sketch.
Almost without thinking...
I turned the page over.
For the first time...
I noticed something faint.
Almost invisible.
Indented into the paper beneath.
Not written in ink.
Pressed there years ago by someone writing on the page above.
I tilted the sketchbook toward the light.
Slowly...
Very slowly...
One word became visible.
HOME
Not "house."
Not "dream."
Just...
Home.
A chill ran through me.
Not from fear.
From curiosity.
I gently traced the letters with my fingertip.
"Who wrote you?"