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As soon as I exited the metal front door, went down the stairs, and made a few steps, I slipped and fell on my nates. That can sound like a typical encounter during the winter morning, but it was not, because my winter was extra special. First of all, the was no snow. Well, little patches of snow could be seen on the grass and on rooftops, but other places were snowless. The second point was the temperature fluctuation around zero degrees Celsius: during the day it rose above, so we had to jump around puddles like frogs, and during the night it fell below, so in the morning we had grey ice covering every inch of the ground. I totally forgot about it, and now my nates were paying for the mistakes of my head.
My cellphone jingled. I looked at it and groaned. The quarantine app detected me outside the house and notified me that I must get back inside or I will suffer the consequences. Muttering through my mask, I activated the built-in timer for thirty minutes and shoved it back inside my pocket. Then I carefully got up and checked for the damage with my hand. The bones were intact, but my skin was promising me a beautiful violet bruise. Carefully shambling because of the bruise and the slippery road, I reached the grocery store, bought the necessary stuff, and shambled back. The phone was bursting with notifications that my 30 minutes will soon finish. Resume: the start of the day was abhorrent and unpromising.
I entered my flat, took off my mask, turned the freaking timer off, changed into my home clothes, made a cup of tea, and sat near my computer. I didn’t bother unpacking my shopping bag – there was nothing that could spoil in the next couple of hours. I checked my Twitter page automatically. I have been on this platform for a while now, under an alias, retweeting random art I enjoyed and having around 60 subscribers at the time. Things were going slow and honestly – I didn’t care at the time.
I was beginning to mope when one of the posts caught my attention. An artist, fresh on this platform, but already with some impressive art, was looking for people to communicate with. My finger was above the scrolling wheel, but something stopped my hand. A little voice inside my head, usually dormant, whispered to me that this could be extremely interesting. Also, he added that I had nothing better to do at the moment. Unfortunately, he was right. I replied to the post, while considering my further actions.
The new message notification jingled after about 5 minutes. I was surprised – in my previous DMs I had to be the initiator. I opened it and saw a message that introduced the other side as Karrot. I replied with my name and so the conversation began. The conversation that turned my life into a miracle.
We talked, both in DMs and in the comment section. Karrot was soon identified as a female from a northern country. I guessed her age by a blind guess. We shared stories, both ordinary and personal. She introduced me to the works of VivziePop, the artist, whose work that I would fall in love with and later join one of the best communities. We shared the 40 questions questionnaire about ourselves. Then, all of a sudden, I won the art lottery and received a beautiful art piece from her. I got familiar with her friends and later joined several of the Discord group calls that discussed art. I am not an artist, but still, I highly enjoyed the conversations and hearing her voice.
Every month, on the date we started talking, I would send her a small present to celebrate the milestone of our conversation. A verse, a song, a story – not much, but not small either. Then we had to take breaks because we both had our lives to live and could not constantly talk. But that is not really important.
What really is important is that Karrot became more than just an internet friend to me. She became my muse, a person that encourages you to be better by just existing and talking to you. Thanks to her, I could write again, I started going to the gym and so on. Some of you may find it funny or disgusting. Whatever. For me, it was a godsend.
And here we are now. The end of summer. The autumn is slowly but surely taking reign. Our last break is pretty long. But it doesn’t discourage me. Deep in my heart, I know everything is okay. Patience is a virtue. And I am waiting until midnight to be one of the first to write the cherished words: “Happy birthday, Karrot!”