Etsu stared at the paper before her. Sarah had long since gone to sleep. Apparently that was normal. Earlier when Sarah was growing tired, she explained to Etsu that she often worked long days at the farm and was beat by the time she was done eating dinner. Etsu and she were sharing a room for the night, and though Etsu tried to sleep for hours, she'd failed time and time again. Condemned to tossing and turning, she had little choice left but to try tiring her mind out. Physically, she felt exhausted. Emotionally, she felt the need to crawl into a corner and die. But mentally, she was far too active. Too many thoughts were firing off at once.
About an hour ago, Etsu got out of Sarah's bed (Sarah slept on the floor at her own volition), stepped over Sarah, and took a seat at Sarah's desk. She lit a candle and rummaged around for anything she could find. What Etsu procured was pen and paper.
So she began writing a letter. To whom, she hadn't the slightest. Maybe she was writing it to her mother. Maybe her father. Maybe even Eld. She might have been writing it to herself, even. Etsu wrote paragraph after paragraph, filled a whole two sheets of paper with thoughts and feelings, confused and disjointed as they may be, but by the end of it, she couldn't help but look up. Sarah had an old clock up there. It was almost midnight, and if she didn't try sleeping again soon, tomorrow was going to be horrendous for her.
She set her pen down and sighed. The second hand kept moving and she was running out of things to say. With a sigh, she took the papers, ripped them in two, and dropped the severed sheets into Sarah's trash can. With that, Etsu got up and started for Sarah's bed.
Elsewhere in town, back at the clinic, a boy's dream was interrupted. What was a normal day, sitting in a circle with his closest friends, discussing the value of universal health care in Algeroth, altered drastically. At first, the air was standard. Simple. Normal. And then it changed. It adopted color. Green hues struck the wooden floor, spread, and gathered across the walls. Waves of blue flowed through their bodies, but no one else noticed. Maya spoke freely, moved her lips, but no words came out. Sarah moved as if to laugh. Etsu stared confusedly. Toushikyo spoke to explain. But Eld would hear none of it.
And soon, he'd see none of it, either. The colors spread and intensified, grew into light, and bathed all around Eld until there was nothing left but an emerald expanse, swirling with subtle blues and flowing like a tumultuous ocean.
. . . And song.
In the distance, deep within the vastness of cycling colors, someone was singing. A girl. And even from this far away, she sounded like an angel.