Nicolas had been thinking a lot in his spare time. The memories and fantasies and epiphanies were slowly emerging more and more frequently, and he was taking his pills less and less. A few weeks had now passed, and although the children were getting ready for the 'final farewell' to their fellow peers, there was no feeling of anxiety or hope or true happiness. It was all a blur.
It had been a sunshiny day, but there was no breeze. The warmth made the air dry and the fields smell of burning paper, but the grass stayed green. No one realized the colours, but they had always been green. Nicolas had 'forgotten' to take his pills again, and was leaning against the old oak tree, in the shade and underneath the big comforting leaves that twirled and curved like they were embracing one another.
"Nicolas." A faint voice called from over the hill. Nicolas tuned out, knowing that if it was his mother, she would be angry at him for 'lying around'.
"Nicolas!" The voice echoed, but was sharper now, and harsher. It was also coming closer. Upon close inspection, he saw that it was a girk, but not just any girl...it was Eliza. His heart seemed to burst out of his chest, but he knew she was incapable of feeling the same. She had taken the pills. She was normal. He sighed, but waved his hands floppily towards her, watching her figure get closer and closer. Finally, she stood beside him and was holding some kind of stained glass jar in a cardboard box.
"Yeah?" He grinned at her slowly, curious and unafraid.
"I brought you this jam. My mother found this recipe from our ancestors, and said you should try it."
"Oh, say thanks to your mom for me. I really like it." Her face was expressionless, but he knew if she had lived long ago, that she would have been looking down shyly or given him a peck on the cheek. It wasn't happening now, though. God, if only I were not the only one. And it was true. He really was alone, and was maybe even the first to not take his pills. Has anyone else ever felt like this? Inhuman...it must just be me. I'll just die alone in a smelly bathroom or rotting in a bodybag, but no one will care. No one wants to be like me. He hid his thoughts, but she had been noticing it, too. The way his face had these movements, these...expressions. She smiled and skipped away, but turned back sadly. What if she had done the wrong thing?
He opened up the box and took away the brightly coloured plaid cover. It was 'jam'? This strange concotion was something he had never seen or heard of before. Nicolas dipped his finger in and licked the jelly off the top. It was sweet, but tasted as if there were something extra in it. Something that was not supossed to be there, but then again, what did he know? It was not like he had ever made it before anyways.