Putting on his warm padded jacket and lacing up his heavy-duty boots, Toshi glanced across the empty bed—a bed that had never known anyone or anything, other than lost desires and fading memories...

  After fumbling with the key for a moment, he finally found the right turn and stepped directly into a nonogram. The whole world turned into a white grid, neatly divided into cells, where cheerful numbers whispered, joked, and danced among themselves. They were waiting for him—and only him. The moment he crossed the threshold of his department, the digits stood at attention and immediately sobered up, awaiting his first command.

  

  
• Today, my heart craves letters, not I wish to speak, not arrange you into images, my friends.


  

  All the digits understood him without words (as weird as that sounds), and they slowly began peeling off their skins, wrapping themselves up three, sometimes four times, transforming from cocoons into letters. And those were exactly what Toshi had been waiting for. Without delay, he said:

  

  
• Come on now, my dear listeners, let's form some constructs from our alphabet and help me reach the You there – he pointed to the letter -W-, who was playing ancient Tetris and cursing loudly – be a dear and start forming the word -Way Out-. Then follow with: -Corridor-, -Home-, - Street-, -Road-, and of course – -Encounter-.


  

  He had a bit of trouble with one letter in particular, -M-, who turned out to be a feisty little punk, darting from place to place and hiding between her colleagues’ divisions. Her sass hit peak levels when she actually stuck her tongue out at him! Toshi could’ve sworn he’d seen her somewhere before—maybe on a city billboard, or some performer’s poster.

  But, as no storm lasts forever, neither can a rogue letter disrupt order indefinitely. Her comrades got tired of the drama and shoved her into place, finally forming the word: -Home-...

  

  
• …Doctor Taniguchi, you actually made it!


  

  It was a smudge that spoke to him. Literally, a smudge, completely unremarkable, with nothing about it to pique Toshi’s interest. But next to this unnoteworthy blob stood – HER! Apparently, his herbarium of inspiring blossoms had just gained a rare and lethal Brugmansia: a flower that could enchant or destroy anyone foolish enough to pluck it.

  The floral outlines softened and morphed into striking human features—undeniably beautiful. That cheesy phrase -otherworldly beauty- that people use to get laid? No, this was solid, Earthly Beauty. A girl with a perfect bob haircut and a cute little nose ring. Her face shimmered with green and red glints. Toshi was instantly struck with the urge to reach out and touch this marvel—because only touch could truly convey the depth of her allure...

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  

  
• Hey! Erich, he’s reaching for me! Grab him!


  

  Someone very rude and very inconsiderate decided to yank him out of his beautiful reverie by slapping him a couple times across the face. The illusion vanished like a popped soap bubble.

  Toshi found himself standing at a gray autumn intersection, cars occasionally passing, the traffic light blinking steadily. Right next to him stood Erich, his long-time patient—and judging by her voice, that was his sister yelling:

  

  
• Bro, you sure this guy’s a real doc? Honestly, he’s acting like some coked-out burnout!


  

  

  
• I’m – The young man nodded tersely. He had just snapped Toshi out of his lovely little trip and now looked at the man with a mixture of guilt and awe.


  
• You owe me for ripping me out of that amazing – The man muttered dryly. – Got any coffee on you?


  

  There was a coffee machine nearby. They walked silently over to the kiosk and ordered three drinks from the barista. While they waited, Toshi turned his serious gaze toward the girl.

  

  
• In response to your question, young lady, I’m an ex-doctor. I broke ties with that tiresome profession Now, I’m a free artist, painting the great cosmic canvas with my own strokes.


  
• So you lost your license, huh? – She squinted. Her name was Louisa, apparently. The former psychotherapist sadly shook his head, silently cursing how wrong he’d been about her during his vision. That’s the risk of love at first sight—before she sees your bank account and you see her in hair rollers. (O. Henry.)


  

  

  
• So, what is it you wanted from me, young man? – Toshi asked


  

  He looked around shiftily and suggested they step aside to talk. Louisa and the barista exchanged glances—confused, intrigued, maybe even a bit alarmed.

  The young man's rambling, metaphor-free explanation didn’t take long, and Toshi had already figured everything out. The grey smears of reality were quickly swept away by the Psilocybin Song of Invisible Jessica—a sure sign the mushrooms had remembered their humble vessel and now gifted him a new batch of effects: energy and euphoria. Praise be to the fungi, noble heroes of the mind!

  Wielding his unofficial authority as a (former) psychotherapist, Toshi solemnly declared that what haunted the boy was loneliness—and the lack of a close companion who could truly listen and understand him. Therefore, it was imperative they immediately head to the nearest pet store and find him a soul buddy.

  To say Erich was thrilled by this idea would be... incorrect. He muttered that he was scared, that his mind was fraying again—just like it had back when he first started therapy—and maybe they should consider restarting treatment. With meds.

  There was a kernel of truth in his words—the kind Toshi usually hunted like truffles. But he knew better than to take the ordinary route this time. No, ordinary wouldn’t cut it. Not when the sweet whisper of long-gone Mitsumi echoed gently in his head, assuring him he was doing the right thing.

  

  
• Let’s go, friends! – The man cried, flipping up his collar dramatically as he marched off in a direction only he understood.


  

  Louisa barely had time to pay the stunned barista before she and her brother had to hurry after the self-appointed leader of their tiny cult. The doctor’s path was erratic: he zigzagged, paused mid- stride, sometimes spun in place like a malfunctioning compass—and then sprinted again, which naturally prompted some colorful commentary from Louisa.

  

  
• Erich, are you seriously putting your health—and your money—in the hands of this lunatic? He’s completely off his rocker! Just think about it—what do you need him for?


  
• Helped Will help again. – That was her brother’s only answer, over and over like a prayer or a looped voicemail.