By now, Cielo and Jessa had developed a very serious weekend tradition.
Not church.
Not mall trips.
Not "healthy teenage bonding activities."
No.
They went to rent komiks from an old man who treated storytelling like a public service.
—
"Cielo," Jessa announced one Saturday morning, standing outside her house like a dramatic tour guide, "we are going to heal our emotional instability through affordable literature."
Cielo peeked through the doorway.
"Is this an intervention?"
"Yes."
"For what?"
"Your refusal to emotionally diversify."
Cielo paused. "That sounded like a business term."
"It is. You only read books that sound like medical diagnoses."
—
Cielo sighed and grabbed her cap.
"Fine. Let's go before my immune system schedules another dramatic episode."
—
The komiks stall was already there when they arrived.
Same place.
Same wooden cart.
Same old man.
Same sign:
KOMIKS FOR RENT – STORIES FOR THE SOUL
He looked up and smiled.
"You're back," he said simply.
Jessa immediately pointed at Cielo. "She says this is her safest emotional environment."
Cielo corrected calmly. "I said medically safe literature zone."
—
The old vendor chuckled. "Then I must be doing something right."
He slid a stack of komiks forward.
Cielo scanned them carefully like she was reviewing scientific samples.
"This one looks suspiciously romantic," she said, pushing it aside.
Jessa grabbed it immediately. "That's the one I want."
Cielo narrowed her eyes. "You enjoy emotional risk."
"I enjoy storytelling!"
"That's what people say before they suffer."
—
The vendor leaned forward slightly.
"What kind of stories do you like, hija?" he asked Cielo.
She thought for a moment.
Then answered honestly.
"Stories where the world doesn't punish the character for existing."
—
The stall went quiet for half a second.
Not awkward.
Just… understood.
—
Then the old man nodded.
"I have one like that."
He reached under the cart and pulled out a worn comic.
No bright explosion on the cover.
No romance-heavy illustration.
Just a girl sitting under a tree, writing in a notebook.
—
Cielo froze.
Jessa tilted her head. "Why does that look like you… if you were drawn by someone emotionally stable?"
Cielo ignored her.
She took the comic carefully.
"This one," she said softly, "doesn't look dangerous."
The vendor smiled. "Good. Then it's yours."
—
Jessa grabbed three more comics.
"I want action, betrayal, and at least one emotional breakdown!"
Cielo glanced at her. "You're collecting chaos like it's a hobby."
"It is."
—
They sat under a nearby tree to read.
Safe distance from sunlight.
Safe distance from reality.
Safe distance from emotional consequences.
—
Jessa was flipping through hers excitedly.
"OMG this character just got betrayed by his best friend!"
Cielo quietly read her own.
No betrayal.
No explosions.
Just a girl writing while the world moved gently around her.
—
Jessa peeked over. "How's yours?"
Cielo blinked.
Then said:
"It's peaceful."
Jessa frowned. "That sounds illegal in komiks format."
—
But Cielo didn't stop reading.
Because something strange was happening.
The girl in the comic… didn't leave her shaded space.
No one forced her into sunlight.
No tragic punishment.
No dramatic suffering for existing differently.
Just… life.
Quiet. Allowed. Simple.
—
Cielo closed the comic slowly.
"…This feels fake," she said.
Jessa raised an eyebrow. "Because it's peaceful?"
"Yes."
"Cielo, that is called happiness representation."
"I don't trust it."
—
The old vendor, still watching from his cart, laughed softly.
"Young lady," he called, "not all stories are warnings. Some are permission."
Cielo looked at him.
"Permission for what?"
He smiled.
"To exist without apology."
—
That hit differently.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just quietly… where it mattered.
—
Jessa nudged her. "You okay?"
Cielo nodded slowly.
"I think so."
Then added, lighter:
"But I'm still suspicious of happy endings."
Jessa laughed. "Same."
—
As they left the stall that day, Cielo held the comic carefully under her arm.
Not like evidence.
Not like escape.
But like something new.
—
And behind them, the old vendor called out:
"Come back next week!"
Jessa shouted back, "We will! She's emotionally dependent on your inventory now!"
Cielo sighed. "I am not emotionally dependent."
A pause.
"…I am narratively invested."
—
That night, Cielo wrote again.
But her notebook looked different now.
Less like survival.
More like curiosity.
—
Entry: Komiks Vendor Stories
Today I learned that not all stories are about surviving pain.
Some are about being allowed to stay.
And maybe… I want to read more of those.
—
Outside, the sun still burned its usual truth.
But under trees, in ink, and between borrowed comics…
Cielo began to imagine a world where she didn't have to fight just to exist.
And for the first time…
that thought did not feel impossible.