Mr. Lens did an outstanding job magnifying the garlic power trail left by Potti. Daniel hunkered down, holding the magnifying glass an inch off the floor. Lady Mondragon kept her balance, grasping his shoulder, riding like a prancing horse, cherishing the smooches of wind against her decorated wings.

Their fortuitous adventure, a spur-of-the-moment, was an excellent deviation to amuse him from the turbulence that kept stabbing his youth. The curious stomps of his sandals, the glistening convex glass of the nifty Mr. Lens, and the screechy hee-haw of Lady Mondragon feeling like a cowboy had shooed the maddening hush. Even the foul Umbrae were covering their ugly faces under the masks of dark shades of forgotten corners. Their repartee stopped when they reached the foot of the stairs.

"The garlic powder ends here at the foot of the stairs. Where did Potti go?" asked Mr. Lens. "I was in the apex of anticipation, zooming hard in our treasure hunting escapade, but plateaued after finding no trace of Potti's ingenious idea."

Lady Mondragon interrupted. "Sad, so sad. I thought this would be fun. After all, maybe Potti is just a stupid mouse—a vermin. Now, we are in a decline of our emotions and slowly letting our lips hang down, touching the cold floor."

Daniel massaged his temples and tugged his hair back. "Potti is our friend, remember? And vermin is a harsh word, Lady Mondragon. Watch your words. Maybe, he is there somewhere, listening at this moment, and might get hurt by your bluntness," he replied with disappointment.

The trio stood there in silence, wondering where Potti went. Leftward to the kitchen? Mice are annoying and fond of messing with any food, even garbage. Rightward back to the living room? So impossible and pointless but probable. A mouse does have a tiny brain, is weak-minded, helpless, and just wants to have fun. Or upward? Perhaps, he thought.

Daniel wrinkled up his face, folded his arms, and studied the wooden flight of steps. "No trace of garlic powder," he sighed.

Lady Mondragon raised a brow. "See? A naughty vermin. He lured us with his cute little eyes, coquettish squeaks, and contagious playfulness to beg for food. He won by playing coy tricks on us," she crossed her arms.

Daniel carefully raised the magnifying glass inch by inch. "I lay down my arms," Mr. Lens snapped. "I surrender. I cannot allow the fact that a little mouse duped us easily," he knitted his brows.

"Gullible us," Lady Mondragon added.

There were cinders on the little boy's irises. Potti would not leave us. He would stay and guide us to somewhere that would allow me to learn to dream again. I am sure about it, he thought.

Everyone shut their eyes, searching for light in the endless blackness. They hoped that Potti would show up. A noise from the kitchen—the dripping water from a faucet—tickled their eardrums. They waited for a sound, a squeak, a sign—anything.

Someone whispered to his ears. Why do you wait and mope?

The three got startled. And so, Daniel, Mr. Lens, and Lady Mondragon peeled their eyes and looked around. Nothing was there, not a single presence. Daniel blurted out, "Now, I hear things!" He sighed. "I'm going bonkers. I am mad, talking to inanimate barrette and lens," he added as he took a gander at the sparkly barrette on his shoulder.

A descending soft scuffle got the attention of the pouting boy. He felt a nibble on his rubber slippers. "Potti!" he cried out in delight.

He kneeled on the floor beside the mischievous mouse. The mouse tried to say something, doing some funky movements, pantomiming. He squinted. "I don't understand," he shook his head and squeezed his brain to decipher the rodent's message. "All I see is your mouth moving, annoying squeals, and Tyrannosaurus funny claw gestures."

The little mouse sighed, shoved its back, and clambered over the steep stairs. Daniel woke Mr. Lens and Lady Mondragon to follow the rodent. Potti ran across the long corridor, blinded by the sunbeam passing through the window at the end of the aisle, and stopped where the light beam ended. Daniel halted by the main bedroom door, raised his heels, and shuffled his toes silently. He pivoted his head back and then heaved a sigh. When Daniel faced Potti at the end of the hall, the mouse was standing on its hind limbs, fidgeting, and its forelimbs were folded, ruffling. "Wait," the lad whispered.

The little rodent pointed its snout skyward. Daniel threw a glare at the ceiling and saw a hatch. "The attic," his voice cracked, "You want me to go to the attic."

Potti nodded.

He lowered his gaze. "Well, I didn't notice it for some time, and I forget it's just up there."

Potti ran to the very edge of the corridor and pushed a long rod with its tiny head. The metallic rod fell and noisily clanged, crashing the solid surface. The metallic uproar stupefied the trio. They glanced back and hung on as if someone, just a few meters away, had interrupted her room's pacific state.

The trio sighed in unison.

"That was intense!" said Lady Mondragon, calming the tension.

Daniel picked up the rod and hooked the attic hatch eye. He drew the rod down and released the retractable attic ladder halfway open. A gust of warm air breathed out from the loft hatch. "Strange but magical," he uttered.

A drawstring hung down. Potti seized the dangling string and pulled the wooden attic ladder fully extended. The rodent jumped on the first step, met Daniel's twinkling eyes, and clambered up without difficulty. "Woah—"

"A strong and fearless animal, Potti is," Mr. Lens observed.

Daniel grasped the legs of the stepladder and ascended into the forgotten attic. He didn't even have any idea of what was inside of it. The world beneath his feet faded away, but another realm was unfolding beyond the attic entrance. "Like a dream," he whispered, sticking his head out, surveying the dusty attic.

The attic was ghastly lightless. Daniel stepped on the soft attic flooring and stood there for a while as his eyes adjusted to the dark. We might explore the loft blindfolded, he thought.

On one side of the attic, a weak light shone through a blind curtain. His sight fixed on the soft golden glow, but a creaking noise by the window made him hop. A strong force unexpectedly pulled a string. It rolled the blind curtain up, allowing the sun to flood inside the dead space. The blinding light hurt his eyes. Another disturbing thing appeared before his contracted pupils—a shadow loomed in from the windowpane and was nighing to his direction. It hopped onto his face. He tripped and nearly fell, and his buttocks nudged against a stack of books with a globe on top.

"Potti, you scared me!" he caught the naughty rodent clasped inside his hands.

The towering collection of hardbound books, thankfully, did not collapse. But the plastic globe wobbled and then fell, thudding hard on the floor. The globe went skidding away across the floor, finding its way into the crowd and finally slammed against a rusty rake. The rusty rake toppled and clawed the moth-eaten dusty sheets off the clad timeworn furniture. As the rake undressed the neglected closet, a plume of dust exploded in splendor. The particles glistened like snowflakes in winter. However, inevitably, it offended his nasal passages. He pulled his shirt collar over his nose, and his hand held out in front. Then he stood still until the fascinating dust particles subsided.

Potti raced toward the grimy closet. The wooden wardrobe, damaged by rapacious termites, was hollow. Its doors were gone, and its shelves were empty. The only thing left intact was the double door at the bottom. The handles were secured with a nylon rope. The mouse pushed a small empty cardboard box, vaulted on it, and showed its sharp incisors to nibble the string. The poor rodent had a hard time chewing the rope.

Daniel dashed to help the poor mouse. Kneeling there on the dusty floor, he undid the cord meticulously. Bolted here is a treasure, buried to rot and cloaked to hide. Behind the doors, there is a secret kept hidden from others, he thought.

The kid unfolded the double door and discovered an old suitcase. It was unscathed and dustless. He pulled it out and fumbled with its straps. Inside was a cardboard box fastened with packing tape, and scribbled on the front side of it in black ink was the word "Ynsia."

"That's Mommy's name!" he interjected. He lifted the cardboard box and took two or three steps behind. Unfortunately, the base of the box exploded. Its contents fell and landed on his feet. "Ouch!"

It looked like he had found a box of photo albums, picture frames, and pieces of photographs that, at the moment, were scattered throughout the dusty attic floor. He jerked his head to the left and noticed an antique rocking chair. He snatched the old chair, plopped to sit, and rocked it. Whoa, this feels nice, he thought.

Daniel bowed and extended his candle fingers to pick one of the thousand photographs. He held it to the sunbeam and saw his mother in full mountain climbing gear. "Mommy was adventurous in her twenties!" the kid surprisingly said, marveling at the snapshot. He picked another one.

Lady Mondragon croaked, "Your mother is gorgeous like me, glittering, adorned with crystals."

"The ornamentation on her clothing was not crystals but sequins," Mr. Lens butted in as he examined the picture. "Small pieces of glittery plastics, not metals," he added.

"She looks like a creature in an aquarium—a sea horse," Daniel raised a brow, "I had no idea that Mommy was once a theatre actress. Look at the background. It's like under the sea—seaweeds, corals, and giant clams everywhere. I can see that she's good because, observing her pose, she is doing a pirouette. I cannot imagine how her toes can lift her body."

Daniel hoisted the hair barrette on his shoulder and put it on her lap. "Look at me, Daniel," she managed to stand on one foot and whirled a complete turn. "I, too, am talented." Mr. Lens and Daniel gave her a round of applause.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," Lady Mondragon wiggled her ornamented wings and bowed down.

A shrill of a mouse reverberated. The clever rodent was trying to clamber up the chair, fearing its rocking movement. The mouse imagined its soft tiny body wedged in half by the wooden rockers. Daniel dangled his hand and hauled up Potti, quivering beneath the creaking chair. "For the moment, let us leaf through some photo albums," the boy said.

He flipped the cover. "Wow!"

Daniel described the first photo. "Well, I think she's done fishing and caught a giant silvery fish. She's so strong. I wonder how much it weighs." Then he tossed the page.

Lady Mondragon flew eagerly to see and share things from the next photo. "She's a volunteer doing a feeding program. She's kind and caring too, like me," she said while she placed her hand on her thorax, feeling like a saint.

Daniel felt a twinge of negation. Kind and caring? I don't think so, he thought.

"I believe that the picture was taken from Africa. I do not know where exactly," Mr. Lens magnified the little details on the photo, "There are washed-out writings of a place and date on this corner. It says, "Addis Ababa, June 2015". Well, that's in Ethiopia!"

"She loved to travel," Lady Mondragon paused, "In the back of my mind, I am getting flashes that I knew that place. I was there. I can feel it."

"I think you're right, Lady Mondragon," Mr. Lens magnified a hair barrette pinned on her braided hair, "It's you!"

"You're right! It's me," she was stunned. "My wings were intact back then. And my figure didn't change," she rested her hands around her abdomen, constricting it like a snake.

Daniel smiled and turned the page. In the next photo, his mom was an equestrian mounted on a magnificent stallion. "She's so adventurous and energetic doing all these fun activities," he sighed, "Now, her spirit is long gone."

He flipped all the album pages, learning that his mother was full of spirit. It was like the adventure of her lifetime, visiting exotic places beyond imagination, learning various languages and speaking strange voices to describe love and joy, and filling her heart with every friend she met and made. With the sleight of his hand, he completed flipping the pages. It was as if he was on a train traveling from one place to another, learning about his mom's adventure, like miles and miles of railroad track of precious memories. Thus, he reached for other picture frames lying on the floor, hoping to find out some more.

He held the three picture frames like a sandwich and was surprised at what he saw. "Mr. Lens, Lady Mondragon, and Potti look!" he dampened his lips, "Do you remember this art?"

Potti squeaked, trying to answer his question. Of course, they didn't understand the little mammal, and worse, they didn't even know how to speak rodent language.

Mr. Lens' convex glass gleamed, "It's the abstract masterpiece hanging in your living room. Am I right?"

"Exactly!"

"Yuck! That ugly painting of different shapes, lines, and colors is purely grotesque," Lady Mondragon darted for a better view.

"Precisely! Without any reason, I don't know why I barf when I look at it," Daniel pointed to a skinny pale man with a suave mustache holding the painting, "I bet he's the painter of the so-called "The Mother and Child" oil painting."

Daniel rolled his eyes.

"Look at your parents on the left. They were so happy together, cuddling each other," said Lady Mondragon as her eyes twinkled.

Daniel rolled his eyes again and felt a lump in his throat as if he was going to vomit. "Yeah, right," he simpered, "We were livelier and closer years ago since—"

He stopped and opted to continue shuffling the picture frames. Unluckily, the next frame was empty, and there was a crack in its glass. He reshuffled them and slipped the last frame in front. His eyes widened. "I didn't know that Mommy was brave," he paused, "She can fly!"

In a jiffy, the mouse leaped and landed on the picture frame. Potti mimicked Daniel's mom holding the rainbow parachute.

"That's so cute, Potti. I'm sorry for calling you a vermin a while ago," Lady Mondragon asked for forgiveness.

Potti didn't understand her apology but gave the lady adorable squeaks and nods. The cute mouse pointed its snout at a wide symbol printed on the multi-colored parachute.

"Let me help you to have a better look," Mr. Lens insisted.

"It's a bird, more like an albatross!" Daniel described.

Potti leaped from the picture frame down the floor and hopscotched from antique drawers to a broken sewing machine and bicycle, to a mannequin, to several dusty boxes, and groveled into tight crawlspaces passing tiny hills of dust and termite poops.

Daniel sprung up from the rocking chair and searched for the rodent—the leader of their treasure hunt venture. He spotted the mouse standing on a large bag seated on a cobwebbed stool.

"Potti, what are you looking at?" he asked, hinting curiosity in his voice.

He drew closer. "That's an albatross. That means the parachute in the picture is inside that bag," he angled his chin to his left, "The parachute Mommy rode!"

Potti nodded.

Daniel blinked his eyes rapidly at its discovery, but slowly, the smile on his face curved down. Gone are the days when she collected memories, carefree soaring, letting the clouds dampen her wings. But the hot sun melted her wings—she fell helplessly like Icarus' downfall, he thought.

The boy wore his amused look facing the little mouse. "I have a feeling," he raised a brow, "that the attic is your home. It seems that you knew every corner of the room."

The mouse wiggled its spotted tail.

"Oh, I see. You want to show us your humble abode," he smiled, "Well, it was such a pleasure."

Lady Mondragon and Mr. Lens thanked the rodent, "You made our day."

Daniel pulled the plastic of coated nuts out of his pocket. "For you," he gave Potti a few garlic-flavored nuts, "One for you, Mr. Lens, and one for you, Lady Mondragon," he gave them each a piece. Then, he poured the remaining nuts into his hand, "And a handful for me."

He clenched his hand, crushing the nuts, and held it out in the air, "To our newest member of our team. To Potti!" he declared.

Potti, Mr. Lens, and Lady Mondragon copied him. "To Potti!" they shouted.

They popped the nuts in their mouths, but the hair barrette and the magnifying tool failed to do so because they were non-living. And so, Daniel snatched their nuts and chewed them on. "Sorry."