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<!DOCTYPE html>
<html lang="en">
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0">
<meta http-equiv="X-UA-Compatible" content="ie=edge">
<meta name="description" content="Read the tale of Etalais">
<meta name="keywords" content="And I shall call up the Name of the Wind">
<meta name="author" content="Le Potato">
<meta name="theme-color" content="#16264c" />
<meta name="apple-mobile-web-app-status-bar-style" content="black-translucent">
<title>Etalais ⚡</title>
<link rel="stylesheet" href="./css/style.css">
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Fredericka+the+Great&family=Homemade+Apple&display=swap"
rel="stylesheet">
<link rel="icon" href="./img/book.png">
<script defer src="./js/script.js"></script>
</head>
<body>
<div id="loader"
style="position: fixed; z-index: 9999; top:0; left: 0;height: 100vh; width: 100vw; display:flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; background-color: white; font-size: 32px;">
Welcome to Etalais
</div>
<div class="progress" id="progress"
style="position: fixed;z-index: 9999; top: 0; left: 0; height: 4px; background-color: #8e2de2; background: linear-gradient(to right, #8e2de2, #4a00e0); width: 100vw; transform: scaleX(1);">
</div>
<div id="scroll-wrapper">
<div class="paper-bg">
<div class="container">
<div class="title" id="title">ETALAIS</div>
<main>
<article class="content mb-4">
<p>She didn't see me, but I was there. I wasn't following her but she just
seemed
to be there always, wherever I was. Figures. Small towns never do keep secret strangers
hidden.
</p>
<p>Today, it rained. The girl with the bright red umbrella sat at a table
outside the
cafe, sheltered from the chilly watersplashing down on passers-by.</p>
<p>Across the street was the bookstore. And I was there, prowling the aisles
for a new
adventure. After hours of pertinent searching and impertinent requests to the store
owner, I
finally had in my hands a copy of ' Etalais', an obscure magical find in a dusty corner
of the
dimly lit world of words.</p>
<p>My stomach grumbled. I needed food. The book carefully wrapped in my jacket,
I
pushed open the door of the bookstore. The rain had turned into sleet, a torrential
downpour
obscuring vision and raining icy mists from the asphalt.</p>
<p>I knew there'd be no motor vehicles down this road, so I trudged on head
down,
tucking my jacket protectively over the worn cover of my new book. The mists in front of
me
suddenly seemed disturbed.</p>
<p>I looked up.</p>
<p> She was there, just two feet away. red umbrella clutched tightly in hand
covering
the head. her brown satchel flap slightly open exposing half a loaf of delicious
Romanesque
garlic bread with cheese wrapped in tinfoil, and there, as I snuck another look, the
faded cover
of a favourite novel, very similar to mine : <br><br> ' Etalais' .</p>
<p>I looked up. Warm brown eyes smiled inquisitely as she shot a glance at
my newest acquisition. I said nothing.</p>
<p>Freezing flecks of water slapped my cheeks as the wind grew stronger,
picking up leaves and bits of gravel. I was almost drenched, soaking wet, freezing to
the bone, and I just wanted some cocoa.</p>
<p>I couldn't ask her to step aside. Furrows crested her forehead as she
wondered why I didn't respond to her offering of a warm loaf of bread. How could I tell
her I couldn't accept it?</p>
<p>I moved away, sidestepping her and moving across the street, shuffling
quickly, wanting to get out of the rain. I'd wanted to meet this girl for a while, but
now that the moment had come, I realised I wasn't ready. It just wasn't the right time. </p>
<p>I reached the door of the cafe and moved to push it open, but the door
seemed stuck. I jostled the knob a bit, and rubbed away the mist settled on the
glass. The barista was behind the counter, wiping down the trays and closing up. The
cafe was closed. I was too late.</p>
<p>Anger filled my blood. Rage sought colour in my cheeks, boiling to the
extent that my face couldn't feel the cold much more. And then a wave of sadness, of
uselessness, crashed over me. Hot tears welled up behind my eyes, not spilling out
but holding their own, and I choked down a salty hard lump in my throat.</p>
<p>My hands curled into fists as I turned back to the rain and to my
accidental companion in the realm of today. But there wa no sign of the red
umbrella, or the sunny girl who carried it. Instead, on one of the outdoor cafe
tables, protected from Nature's cold wetness by a lot of tinfoil, was a warm loaf of
bread with cheese and garlic.</p>
<p>I didn't see the girl with the red umbrella after that. I didn't have
occassion to, preoccupied as I was with my day job.</p>
<p>I couldn't thank her for the kind gesture she made, leaving an
angst-stricken person with a loaf of hope.</p>
<p>I wouldn't have been able to tell her even if I could. But I was working on
it.</p>
<p>Some day, I told myself. Some day I would meet her again and I would finally
pay her back. I never had liked holding debts with people.</p>
<p>I would tell her, perhaps over a cup of cocoa, how much I admired the
service she was doing at the soup kitchen. I would ask her if she knew how happy and
radiant she made those surrouning her, with her thoughtful gestures and uplifting words.
</p>
<p>I would exalt her spirit and poise and confidence, in plain and simple
tones. How I aspired to emulate those very qualities. I knew I wouldn't flatter. I knew
I'd stay silent after that. She would be uncomfortable with the attention, truly
mortified.</p>
<p>Most importantly, I had this sense that she would need a listening ear at
some point in time. Not anytime soon though. It was too quick of a time frame since...
Well, it wasn't the best time for her. Or for me. And selfish as that sounded, and as
much as I wanted to be that friend, I needed to work on myself first before I could ever
find her. If at all.</p>
<div class="content" style="text-align:end;">~ The Nerdy Snickerdoodle</div>
</article>
</main>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</body>
</html>