The next few weeks passed slowly and unremarkably as the memory of Aubrey’s experiences faded like a wisp of a dream. Yet even as he attempted to return to normalcy by doubling his workload and devouring book after book in his free time, something was changing in him. His demeanor was altered. He remained silent more often and his close friends noted that he seemed sullen and distant. Most notably, he had ceased his evening walks and instead found himself going to bed earlier and earlier despite the allure of the late summer sun. All of these trends went unnoticed by Aubrey however, as it is most difficult to discern changes when you are the one being changed. He gave little thought to the awkward pauses that now littered conversations with Anselm, his oldest and most trusted friend. He told no one of Archibald’s visit for fear of further inciting rumors and suspicions. In short, he tried to get on with his life.

One day as they were returning home after a long day in the fields, Anselm stopped to stare into the slanted sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves. This was unusual behavior for the usually unsentimental Anselm. Aubrey took notice, paused for a moment in silence and drank in the warmth of the late afternoon sun.

Anselm spoke first.

“I’m worried about you Aubrey.”

“What?”

“You’ve been a different gnome for a while now. Something’s changed.” He continued to stare blankly into the trees.

“Nothing’s changed. I’m getting back to normal, if anything.”

“That’s not it. You’re quiet, too quiet. It’s like your heart just isn’t in it anymore.”

“My heart isn’t in what?” Aubrey asked.

“In life.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m the same gnome as ever.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Ever since you saw that owl,” he paused as if the word caused him physical pain. “You’ve been dead inside. You were so excited, to say the least, when it first happened. Then you changed. What happened?”

Aubrey did not speak …