And he had produced the voices at the back of his head:
Goodluck to your journey, mate! Hope you will not be honking around the corners of London were the words he could hear from their lips' movements, but the voice was never silent or low enough to both be heard, and he had heard something.Though it was very nearly negligible for it was basically the product of the back of his head down to his very spine, and it sounded very familiar, of which he had heard a dozen of ere months of sailing across the dire continuum of open seas which stretched their paths from Australia to Britain.
It was something he was familiar, and it was Jack's. Let the be light were the very same words he had thought of inside of head, but there were waves instead of clusters of blinding lights which had illuminated from somewhere very unclear of his thoughts, and it was the sun which could send luminance from the very center of the Earth and parallel-straight from the very edge of the horizon, but he had never really winced nor cried aloud, for he knew it was just something made as a product of his mind and the mere fact that Jack was still, helluva kicker upon his irrelevant world, alive and waiting for the right moment in order for them to see once more, and for him to unleash the outcry of his gun into Micael's once more.
But inconsistently, he never really replied back, as he knew they would not be really able to hear him, let alone vey capable of, but he waved back with his right arm and sent his smile into theirs, of which they had sent their waves back and smiles as well while the ship they were aboard at was travelling away from British soil, where both time and space would crush them at the very ends of their hair. He looked at the little wooden table inside the kitchen room. Grabbed the handle of the pitcher, of which he concurred that 'twas heavy indeed. It was heavy that lifting it with one clumsy hand would lead into the spillage of the lemonade and eventually setting it free to slide into the wooden kitchen floor, but Micael was far and more than just being clumsy.
He then decided to grab it with his left hand, of which was stronger than his right, and then grabbed the sandwich dip with his right hand. After gaining the momentum enough to lift the pitcher steadily and walk with utter cautious mindset, he then went past to the kitchen doorway, of which he immediately saw his parents preparing the lunch table. They were walking around the dining room, getting some spoons, forks which would shine whine a damn light was pointed on their very heads, and some ceramic plates onto which they would put their sandwiches filled with brie and caramelized apples: A dire favorite of both Micael and his father especially when his mother had prepared them for them.
He saw his mother grabbing for coasters and drinking glasses of which they would pour the lemonade into without the littlest of spillage, as cleaning was far much worse than eating cleanly and neatly with the greatest caution and the least of precarious behavior would be the best all applicable scenarios, with their table as the only parameter. A few steps more, and he reached the very edge of the roundtable on which some plates and their lunch were on.
He then placed the heavy lemonade pitcher on his left hand and the sandwich dip near the plates where the grilled cheese was placed by his mother. "Mother! I have already placed the lemonade onto the table!" He shouted with the half of his loudest voice and then went on to help her find the coasters on the cabinet. He then moved forward towards his mother's whereabouts who was busy looking for the coasters of which she had not used for weeks as Mister Harry and his family had stopped on visiting their room.
"What are you looking for, mother? Seems like you have stumbled upon something quite unusual," he said with his clumsy voice while his lips were staying as tame as a wild ocelot. His mother went an uneasy reply, but immediate beyond her mere sight: "Coasters, honey. Have you seen them?" while her eyes were straight ahead looking at the cabinet she was opening, and her eyes had never been so disappointed to find out that the coasters were not there, either. But his mother had never checked the cabinet above her head, of which she could reach but she could not see what was inside the cabinet, which had compromised her ability, let alone her courage, to even dare and try to check the cabinet locked tight against the wall. Micael quickly got himself into opening the cabinet above his mother's head without even asking, for he knew that she would not really keep the littlest inch into bothering something she couldn't really dig herself into even with the greatest of curiosity and efforts, and so he did. He spanned his neat arms up-wise and then he opened the cabinet door, and later he had let his eyes rummage like those who were stationed into the ideology of a search party.
His hands followed the winder-wander with quite the curiosity on the back of each' palms as well. His eyes then saw what his hands and his mother had been looking for in that time being, and the presence of the coasters followed. The size of it had resembled the very palms of Micael's hands and the texture of a quite plate he used in liking of breaking into such smaller pieces and one would had done so much if the plates were not really there and owned by any other else. He grabbed three coasters with the aid of his individual fingers on his hands with a tight grip, and his hands went outside of the cabinet door, of which was not really apparent for his mother, and he uttered with politeness and pun right behind his words, and looked at her like what would a 3 year-old toddler do in a situation where he was being followed by someone he really knew but was extraneous enough to scary him like much more than just 3 years of age of fright beneath the very eyes of his face:
"Mother. I finally got the coasters you are currently in dire of looking," he said with a smirk and his lips closed immediately after talking, of which had smiled in the latter, and he handed the coasters from his hands into his mother's clumsy hands. He knew she was clumsy, but he also knew that she could handle something lighter than his head. His mother then closed the cabinet which was just under her belt, and went to the table to put the coasters, merely and exactly three, onto the table and beside their respective seats, whereas her husband had put the plates and utensils all together in the table and they looked like something very practiced and built like a jigsaw puzzle with more than thousands of pieces.
...