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No." He said before focusing his eyes again on what was going on outside; "No, it doesn't bother me." and then he held my hand "I just have not been called that in a very long time."

"I promise I will try not to wear it down." I smiled immediately after and he did too.

That moment however, was not allowed to last as the increasing happenings on the outside magnified his haste, and by proxy, mine.

"We need to wait for just the right time," he grumbled.

"Maybe... maybe..." I repeated a few times.

"Huh?" he asked before immediately realising... "Oh!"

"Maybe..." my eyes were still glued to that sign, previously some luteous gibberish but now something more, words without sound that I could understand, read...

"Multiple

Assembled

Young

Biologic

Entities"

"Does that include me?" I asked "Am I one of these 'Maybe'? Father?" I noticed he chose not to answer, but instead to deflect, "Since you can read already, I am sure your writing skills are close behind, and so I would have you do something for me. Something quite important."

"I know writing, I mean what that is." I remember waving my finger around as I tried to mimic the words on that sign "But I am not sure I can do it myself. Not yet."

"It will come to you," He smiled, his most appreciated attempt at inspiring any confidence in me, "and when it does, I would like for you to write down everything that is going to transpire tonight." He then rummaged through that big bag he had been readying for the last moments, before finally slapping his forehead after realising what he was looking for was already in one of his pockets. He took it out, and then proudly handed it to me. That very same notebook that you now hold in your hand, "Can you do that for me?" He insisted.

"I am not sure I �""

"It will come to you, all the memories and much more." He smiled as he handed me some pencils too, "And when you know how, when you feel confident enough to start, I want you to write down everything concerning tonight. Write as much as you can �" use whatever sight is available to you; pen down whatever your eyes or your mind decide to show you �" keep writing until you find yourself out of here."

"Can I make it like a story?" I asked shyly, "Of sorts..."