We had to move fast. In mere minutes after the news were brought in, Bishop began a flurry of activity. We ran with more messages—in simple words since there was no time or sense in writing them on paper—and gathered people while Bishop organised the efforts from his home and packed his things.
All that time I felt flown away like a seed of dandelion in the wind. Once again, a place that became more of a home to me than the house where I spent the nights was being cleared of everything that made it such.
'Well,' I thought as I helped Bishop put heavy tomes into a wooden crate, 'that's not true, right? Everything goes with us.'
That didn't calm me down. We all still were dandelion seeds, so easy to be blown away. How hard could we hold for each other?
