"Story? Well, it's not much, but sure." He sat down, setting the pan next to him. He leaned back on his hands looked up at the sky. "Well, first thing I remember is running through a city's streets, just hauling ass. Probably about nine. I had no clue what I was running from, but I knew it would cause some trouble. I have no clue how long I I spent weaving through those alleys and jaywalking across intersections, adrenaline does that to your memory. But eventually I began to hear someone whispering. But no matter where I went, I couldn't get away, like someone was floating right behind my head. The voice slowly got louder and louder, growing into a motherly tone that had a way of calming a panicked child's nerves. I stopped running eventually and let it lull me to sleep, and when I woke up, I was in a trash heap with this lady dressed in those poofy dresses from, like, Civil War times. Mrs. Martha. She explained how she was a spirit, and how many others were like her that wanted to talk to me. They showed my how to feel each different type of magic, from the elemental to the godly. Taught me to think of them as food that you taste. Each one tasted different, so therefore you can recognize it and identify. Then, with a shit load of crying and hugging, they sent me away, and I've been walking ever since." He looked back at her, his hazel eyes glinting off of someunseen light source, giving him a eerie look.