Chapitre 88: It's not a grass-cutting kind of a Scythe

"Tim!" 

Claire's voice was the first thing I heard when I regained consciousness… 

No, when I've finally grown too tired to keep maintaining the agitated state of my very own spiritual core. 

"Huh?" Startled, I took a step back only to see a pile of pairs of wooden blocks… Now perfectly sanded down to the round shape I imagined them to be. 

But that wasn't all!

With the strings that held each of the pairs now gone, I could only assume that I'd already glued the pieces together, which only served to pose one hell of an important question. 

"Did I fill them in?" I accidentally asked out loud, too startled to control what was just the voice in the back of my head and what I actually spelled out loud. 

"You are finally back…" Claire's greatly concerned voice finally pressed me to look away from the sanding machine and at the girl, whose extremely worried face only served to drive the point home.