I found myself standing in my room pondering. For what reason? I could not tell. All I knew was that I was in a panic, or in something even worse. The room was in a mess. Jeans, jackets, skirts, T-shirts, socks and underwear spreading everywhere. I could hardly see the maple floor. Suddenly, I realized that I was not wearing my ring. It was my turning-adult gift from grandma; without it, my sense of security was gone. The next second I was down on my knees looking for that tiny precious. Picking this up, putting that aside, and throwing that away; my anxiety was driving me crazy. I almost lain down and cried like a baby for I couldn't find it, and I've checked everywhere. However, just before tears went out, some weird thing under a towel showed itself to me. It felt so distanced yet so familiar, beyond words could described. It was a wooden box with a unlocked lock hanging there. I hate to put it this way, but it was glittering as if there were magic. Within it lain a letter written: Evisule Yume. Both its envelop and letter papers were made of parchment. The signature was Charles Anderson. Gazing motionlessly at those letters, the past conquered me. Drops of warmth saltly down my cheeks ran. I tried to lift up my head slowly to stop the tears, but found my reflection in the mirror. "Was it me? Or was it you, Charles?"