Yellow tapes and flashy police cars were parked near the bakery. I swore because I knew that it had to be a messy affair. I avoided the cars and headed to a place where I knew I'd find some reliable news.

'You know what happened here?' I asked a dude whom I had known for quite some time.

'Yeah. The owner was murdered last night.'

Oh crud. That was bad news. The father was gone.

'What about his daughter?' I inquired.

The dude gave me a look. 'Daughter? He didn't have a daughter.'

Needless to say, I was baffled. I knew him to be a reliable source. If drama was present anywhere, you'd find him there, eagerly noting everything down, so that he could tell it to the world. He would have made a fine journalist if he really applied himself.

'Are you certain? No girl lived with him?'

'Yeah, man. No daughter. Never seen a girl there, and I've been there many times.'

We had some idle chat after that, but I knew he could tell that I was distracted.

I had been to the bakery twice, and I had seen her both times. Also, I remember a particular instance where the "father" even stopped her from conversing with me. I knew I needed to hurry up and return to my place so that I could ask the girl about her true identity. I doubted she'd open up to me, a complete stranger, but I found solace in the fact that, regardless of what she'd been through, she was safe with me.

Unsurprisingly, she was still at home.

She was still sitting on the bed, but there were several books scattered around her.

'What are you looking for?' I asked, despite myself.

Her lack of response was now understandable.

I wondered how to broach the subject of what I'd learned. I was on tenterhooks. Being the perceptive girl she was, she raised a brow at me as if telling me to spit it out. Unfortunately, it was I who chickened out. 'Umm... What- what would you like for dinner?'

She gave me a stink eye as if I had interrupted her for a silly reason.

I pursed my lips and went to make dinner.

I kept an eye on the girl. She was still rummaging through my book collection. Just what is she looking for? If only she could tell me... I'd give it to her in a jiffy.

How to win over a child? How do you get a child to trust you? You see, these were very basic questions. I had lost touch with interacting with normal humans, so I was nervous. I was always approaching people with some doubts in mind, barely trusting anyone.

My trust muscle was out of order, and the thought of using it made me anxious, and I had many reasons to suspect that her's was too.

We were just two poor souls on the same boat.

I returned with dinner. 'You still haven't found what you're looking for?'

She thought I was taking a dig at her and received the appropriate response: a book hurled at me as soon as I set the plates down. Well, at least, she was mindful of our meal.

This time, she undauntedly reached for her plate and ate it slowly, as though relishing every morsel. I took this as a rare compliment. My heart warmed.

'If you tell me what you're looking for, I'll help you. It'll be easier if we look for it together. Plus, I know the contents of all the books here,' I explained like a rational adult. I regretted my words because she began to speed up her eating. 'Hey, slow down. I won't take it away from you,' I assured her. Of course, my words fell on deaf ears.

She scarfed it down, set her empty plate in front of me before she got off the bed.

'Where are you going?' I asked, alarmed. You're not going to leave, are you?

Wordlessly, she began to gather all the books she'd scattered. She dealt with them with a great deal of care, brushing the covers with her fingertips before piling them one over another, in another section of the room.

I tried to assist her, but she glowered at me, and I was forced to stay in my seat, unmoving.

After she was done, she climbed onto the bed and lay down, on her side, facing me. Her dim eyes pierced my soul. For some reason, I wanted to cry. I held it in. 'Do- do you want some water?'

I think I read a 'yes' in her eyes, so I brought her a glass. She sat up, gulped it down, and resumed her previous position.

Then she broke the spell by closing her eyes.

I was ashamed. It seemed to me that the child was better than me in reusing her trust muscle. I should've been a role model for her, but instead it was the other way around. The more I studied the tangle of emotions, the more confused I became; I realized that I was depending on a child.

To be honest, I usually ate one meal a day (sometimes I forwent it because I was lazy). Cooking was a freaking chore, but somehow, I found myself doing the very same thing for her. Logically, it made little sense. Shouldn't cooking for two be a bigger chore than cooking for one? After all, it consumed more resources and possibly time.

Because of her presence, I seemed to be taking better care of myself.

Is this normal?

I was drawn out of my thoughts when I saw that she had once again opened her eyes.

'What is it?' My voice was oddly tender.

She reached out her hand once again.

I almost curled into a ball right at the spot. Tears welled in my eyes as I took her hand.

It was so warm. It was so comforting. I felt human.

'Sleep now,' I managed to speak.

She obeyed.

You might not remember me tomorrow. 

I let the tears flow.