Daniel suggested that perhaps Well and him should begin looking through all the stuff found inside the warehouse and maybe only until then they would end up getting a clue that would help them grasp a grain of Joross's whereabouts. On the other hand, Well, who was on the broom box at the backmost part of the room, was hoping that he would see his phone in there. But that could not be possible. Well had never entered the warehouse before so the phone should not be able to get in here. But Well was doubtful. Always. And as much as an overthinker he was, he also already told himself that maybe his phone had been stolen by someone from the bar. But, why would they do it anyway? Who would be so ingested in stealing his cell phone when other than the brand itself, nothing else was interesting about that? There were no games, not much application, and it's only purpose for Well was it was his mode of communication whenever he wanted to talk to his Mom and Dad, and the alarm clock. Well was

Coach Sonashi has decided to let me leave early so that I could rest and prepare for a harder day tomorrow. Even up until now, I still find it very hard to believe that I actually made it to the coaching staff of the school's basketball varsity team. Although the role that I have right now is no similar to the role that I have before (which is an ace player and an MVP), I am still feeling grateful and positively motivated because, who wouldn't be proud representing and supporting his school for the last time, huh? Louis Peters and I are now on our way out of the school's sports stadium. I ask him if where he is going next and he said that he might actually just go straight to his apartment because he is so tired and he is going to call it a day. So, with that being said, I have no choice but to go home as well since it's already four o'clock in the afternoon. I reckon the basketball practice will finish anywhere between five o'clock to six o'clock, and that is according to the time f

If not because of the sharp glimmers of sunshine rays penetrating through the tiny holes of the roof and hitting directly on his skin, Well would not be able to realize that it was late in the morning already.He opened his eyes, scrubbed them hardly with his fingers, as he slowly lifted himself up from the broken swivel chair where he spent the rest of the night sleeping. His legs were still noodles. He could barely even feel any sensation on his feet; he could not feel the surface of the ground, he could not feel the cold temperature of the room, he could not feel almost anything. It was only then when the room had been lightened by the sun that everything inside made a little more sense. To Well, it indeed really looked like a boutique room. A stockroom, perhaps. There was a broken refrigerator, cupboards, broken chairs of different sorts, scraps and metals and other useless materials that just did not compute as to why they ended up being there, and a lot more. However, other tha

The cars sped past in front of him. Black smoke blew off his face, the disgusting smell of it tingled his nostrils in the most annoying way. Well could have just easily escaped the embarrassing situation only if he ever thought of running. But considering the odds, it seemed like it did not even bother to cross his mind. What Well did instead was to walk at his fastest pace until he reached the other end of the pedestrian lane. There, people were as fast and as quick as the cars. Busy. Topsy-turvy. That was how Well would describe the scenario the moment he landed a foot on the other side. It was as if an entirely different world. However, he was fully aware that it was nothing but just another block of skyscrapers and tall buildings that was obviously an extension of the New Bill. It was still part of the New Bill. The extreme uncomfort, immense anxiety, and utter suffocation Well felt were enough manifestations to conclude that he was still in New Bill. Feeling an imaginary scrape

A knock on the door had caught the attention of Well, making him jump off of the couch and run all the way past the living room to twist the door knob open. It was a hotel clerk, bringing a bar cart with him that contained a full course meal. IT was only then when Well realized that it was already lunch time. “Hi, Sir, Good day. As part of the VIP subscriber benefit, we offer you this free full meal course of the day. Enjoy!” The hotel clerk greeted Well with a vibrant smile plastered on his face. “Oh, thank you! I did not know you have stuff like this. Good thing I have not prepared my lunch yet, so you came just in time,” Well answered, although inside his head, he was already questioning the authenticity of the words coming from the mouth of the hotel clerk. The hotel clerk fixed his red bowtie that looked like a big stain of blood on his white inner polo shirt, and then maneuvered the trolly to the direction of the living room. “May I?” he asked, probably preferring to whether