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I like having routines. Classes, training, my evening call catching up with Milo and Edna, Hayzel and Ethan driving me insane. Because routines are good, they mean structure and stability.

If my days look the same, people stop asking questions. If nothing changes, no one notices anything. Going to the same spot late at night, drawing sketches but never fully finishing off any of them. Everything happens the same way regularly and it’s fine by me.

It’s true, I didn’t plan for what I’m putting myself in, and maybe that’s why I’m scared.

Changes of plan and improvisation are scary.

I zipped Blue into the front pocket of my oversized hoodie, tucking him close against my chest. His tiny body fits perfectly and I could feel the faint rumble of his purr.

The place I love near the cliff was always empty, so we sat there after eating dinner with Hayzel. She did ask a lot of questions, mostly because I was apparently late. I promised to tell her all about it tomorrow and thankfully she was already falling asleep so she agreed fast.

I rested my sketchbook on my knees, pencil hovering on the new empty page of my journal.

October is a really beautiful month.

It feels close to the end of a year filled with too much anxiety, and it’s still far from that last week of December where you reflect on every little wrong decision you made.

Seraphin Bay’s nights are one of my favorite things happening in October.

It’s colder, bluer.

Blue isn't cold like a lot of people would think about. Blue can mean hotter than red, even though most people still call red "warm." The hottest stars burn blue, and maybe that's why I particularly love looking at the sunrise here, in October.

It’s about 1 A.M and the week went out pretty quickly.

Blue’s eyes open for a few seconds as he looks around at the water, the sky, everything around and he is intrigued by this new place. But judging by the way he went back into my sweatshirt, it’s too cold for him. I wanted to leave him in the dorm but he jumped on me the moment I grabbed my keys. Maybe he’s too tired of me leaving him there alone when I can’t sleep.

So he’s keeping me company tonight. His fur is warm, and I can see him falling asleep already.

I draw a line on the next empty page of the sketchbook, then another, followed by a curve that looks like a nose, but then I just stop and try something else.

This time it’s a hand.

Long fingers, visible veins beneath the skin.

For the first time in so long I don’t stop as fast. The pencil keeps moving, darkening the knuckles then the wrist. When I start tracing the beginning of an inked pattern I freeze.

My eyes settle on the tattoo. A compass.

I know that tattoo…

A long breath leaves my lungs and I hear myself whispering, “What am I even doing?”

I stop and close my eyes for a second. When I open them again, all I see is an ocean of unfinished drawings, each abandoned before they even had the chance to become anything at all.

I know there’s something in my head trying to get out, but it won’t let me reach it. So I shut the sketchbook close and stare at the sea.

A shadow fell over me at that moment. “Really late and cold for you to be here,” a voice said.

I glanced up, following the voice and here he is. Him. Glasses slipping down his nose, arms crossed, that grumpy, judgmental look I’m used to seeing whenever we work on something together.

My chest tightened a little.

“I like the quiet,” I said, shrugging. Blue twitched his ears, peeking out.

He lowered himself beside me, careful not to crowd Blue. “Why are you always hiding here?”

“It’s calm, plus you’re also strangely always here when I am, I should ask you the same.”