Prologue

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After a strenuous day at work, if not too tired, Lane would sit on the balcony of her apartment and watch the bustling city. Once, which seemed to be a long time ago now, the sight had mesmerized her so much that she spent the whole night there. Nowadays though, she found it too shiny, too noisy, too glinting, too much too many things, and it made her way too restless and tired just by looking... It appeared to her, more than ever before, that it really was nothing like the campaign where she grew up with her grandparents.

Recently, she grew homesick and longed to go back to those peaceful days of uneventful life in the vast green pasture: to wake up to the rooster's song, helping with the morning chores, the sheeps that needed to go out, the fields needed to be tended to... she longed to hear once again the voice of her grandmother as she called for her dinner, her grandfather’s shouts at the neighbors' mischievous children… Even that long march she had to do before arriving at school was now missed by her... And more than anything, she missed the nights were her grandparents would tell tales under the starry skies. It used to be a tradition done on the weekends. The villagers would reunite once a month usually, but in their household, in the back courtyard, every Saturday, they would sit under the stars, and with only the moon as their light, they would recount stories to each other.

When nostalgic memories like those would pop into her mind, Lane couldn’t help but think that they were what she defined as pure bliss and the thought to go back there, in her village once again, if only to see the residence left behind by her grandparents, would be nursed for a time. Just a little bit of time, until, reality coldly and harshly made her remember that no one was waiting for her there anymore. Her grandparents had now long passed away and she didn’t really have the heart to confront those memories all alone. She would rather recall those joyful things, instead of overwriting sad memories onto them. And indeed, what a sad thing it would be if she entered that house that used to be full of joy only to witness how depressive it became without its owners. No, gloomy thoughts shouldn't tarnish it.

And today, she was particularly gloomy, since, on this very day, it would now be thirteen years since she last set foot there. Thirteen years that she left the village, never looking back.

The lively city reflecting on the pupil of her eyes failed to take her mind off of that. Lethargically, still leaning on the window frame, she took in hand the phone that had been left by her side previously.

Since nighttime stories couldn't be heard from a gathering anymore, she exchanged them with the Internet. It was a pastime as excellent as any and it had the advantage to let her reminisce about her grandparents. Sitting on the window frame with a cup of steaming milk in one hand while the other was holding her phone, she had passed many nights like that. Today too, she browsed for the updates of the stories she was following, searching for something to accompany her recently boring and lonely nights. It was months now since her last date.

However, she couldn't sit here for long. A headache she felt the day before came back with twice the intensity now. She had promised herself to stop by the pharmacy before coming back home yet forgot.

Oh well, might as well wait for tomorrow then.

With such thoughts, she drank two more cups of hot milk, -whole milk with high fat- willing the ache to lessen enough for her to sleep her sad state away. When her head finally stopped throbbing, she prepared for bed, and, under the comfort of her blanket, she fell asleep. 

Lane died, never knowing what killed her.

Days later, a tumor would be found in the autopsy and diagnosed as the cause of her death.

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