The girl in the window

I walked the street, houses all around me in various sizes and shapes, most of them with their windows wide open in order to let the sun in.

One of the closest houses had a window near the roof, one that was closed, the attic probably. The sun was reflecting off the white paint but I thought I saw a red figure for a brief moment. The figure was gone after I blinked.

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I walked around the house, trying to figure out to whom it belonged. Lucky for me, the house had a sign next to it. This was the house of the name rater, the one who knew how to change the nickname of a pokémon.

That meant the figure I had seen in the window was probably the hypnotic red girl from before.

I hesitated before this knowledge. Should I venture inside?

My curiosity got the best of me and I walked through the open door, knocking on it as I passed. A voice from inside told me to enter and come closer. It belonged to an elderly man, and he was sitting at the table gesturing me to sit beside him.

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I greeted him and sat down. He told me he had no name except the one he was known by: “Name rater”.

He looked and sounded tired as he encouraged me to get on with it, to show him my pokémon so he could judge its worth. This was not something I perceived to be done out of joy or personal fulfilment, he looked bored and unfazed even as Shelly jumped out of the pokéball of his own accord.

The name rater looked at the togepi in front of him, analyzing it very carefully. He then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His air remained still for a few seconds until his eyes only reopened, only then did he release his breath.

He said the name I had chosen was more than adequate because not only did it describe the pokémon very well but it also pleased the pokémon greatly. The pokémon had a great future ahead of him. Shelly was pushed towards me and the man told me to leave if I had no more pokémon for him to rate. He wasn’t rude but made sure I understood my time there was done.

I recalled Shelly to his ball and started heading towards the door, but not before remembering part of the reason I had come into the house, the figure in red, Anabelle.

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The elder sighed once again and asked what it was that she had done this time. He proceeded to explain that it was not her fault, she had been raised by psychic pokémon, and had acquired some of their unique abilities in the process. They were, however, out of her control. He said he had no money to offer as compensation for the troubles she had put me through but he offered his most sincere apologies on her behalf.

I reassured the man that I was not a victim but just curious and worried about Anabelle, and now for the elder man, because he alone seemed to be tasked with the job of caring for her.

He smiled and said it was his pleasure and his life long duty, there was no other place where he would rather be.

I thanked him for his time, for the information, and I also apologized if I had cause him any distress with my inquiries. I then excused myself and left, allowing a tired old man to go back to reading his magazine.

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