Tutor by anonymous

”Is it um… eight kilometers per hour?”

Count. It takes just about a second for her to say you’re right. If you’re wrong, she pauses for a good two more seconds.

…

Dammit, she didn’t say anything.

Crap.

“Oh! It’s negative eight, because we’re going in the negative direction…? ”

“Yes! Good job, you’re really getting it!”

Wow, you’re utterly, absolutely, every derogatory superlative-ly stupid. What if she thinks you’re stupid too? If YOU are feeling stupid, imagine how ashamed, how tired, how devastated your tutor must be-

Having an awful tutor is good sometimes, because at least then you know you can mentally blame them for not doing their job properly, so therefore getting a question wrong is hypothetically all their fault.

With a good tutor though, getting a problem wrong makes me want to run and duck beneath the blankets at a rate way faster than just eight damn kilometers an hour.

Why can’t I let myself be wrong?

The Door by James Lopez

Crash

I woke up in the middle of the night with an instilled sense of fear.  For what was tomorrow?  What will it bring?

I looked at my bulletin board, with UCLA fliers pinned to it.  I look around my room full of Bruins merchandise.  I look at my calendar, with tomorrow morning circled over and over.

What will I do tomorrow?  How will I survive?  I am not responsible, I can’t live on my own.

I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn’t realize that my closet door was glowing until it blasted open as if someone kicked it down.  

I gazed down the closet, for it was no longer there.  Where my closet was, there were rolling green hills and a bright, sunny sky.  I looked around, and decided to go inside.

I gazed around, looking at the frolicking animals, when I suddenly ran into my friend, John, but he looked 10 years older.  He was just standing inside the middle of the field, but he had this uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Wait, tell me again what you are doing now?” asked John.

Suddenly, I felt my vocal cords vibrating, but I did not open my mouth.  I instead heard my own disembodied voice grow a mind of its own.

“I am living with my parents, you know.  Just relaxin’ and enjoying life,” said my voice.

“Oh, that’s . . . nice” and with the wind, he vanished.

I then saw my younger brother in his place, more successful than anyone could have ever thought.  He looked happy with this ring on his finger.  He was talking to this girl I had never seen before.

“Well we should do something, he is your brother!” said the girl.

“He had 20 years to make something of himself, but he chose to just quit college and stay home with mom.  I honestly don’t think he is capable of bettering himself,” said my brother.

“Still, I feel bad for him.”

“Don’t, no matter how much money I give him, he will just waste it.  He doesn’t want to do anything”

And suddenly, with the wind, they vanished, and my mother was in their place.

She had more wrinkles than I remember and eyes that expressed more sadness than anyone could muster.  She didn’t talk, but instead chose to continue the chores around the house.  Meanwhile, I heard the sounds of a video game in the background.

And with another thunderstrike, I awoke.  I ran to mom and hugged her with the tightest grip.  I looked at my packed clothes.

“So my big bro is headed off to college and leaving the nest?” said my younger brother.

“Yep,” I said, “and I can’t wait.”

since when did i start to hate the color orange? by Elina Lim

It was supposed to be an easy day. 

You were supposed to pick me up from work, exactly like normal. We were supposed to go skating, just like normal. 

We would hold each other's hands and swing our arms as we walked the 14 minute walk from the tattered old record store on the corner of the block to Our skate park. 

The same one ever since the first day, ever since June 23, 2022. 

It was December 31, 2024. 

The same one that I would sit on the ramps while my feet swing back and forth, my heart beating 20 times faster than it should as I watched you flip off flights of stairs and slide on the rails. Then you would look towards me every time you land a trick, smiling with the tips of your mouths reaching your ears as you exclaim loudly in praise at your actions. 

You would run over to me, and I would watch with a pang of strong pride in my heart as I followed you with my eyes. I would jump up and high five you with both hands and laugh the same laugh as yours, my eyes wrinkling and turning into soft crescent moons as I look up towards you. 

You looked so happy. 

I was so happy. 

We would have spent the rest of the day at our skate park, then paid a visit to our favorite mom and pa sushi restaurant. The old Japanese couple would smile at us as we goof around in the booth and steal each other's nigiri pieces while spilling soy sauce blots on the table from how much we were laughing. They would quietly slide over a plate of each of our favorite hand rolls, refusing to put it onto our tab when we pester them when we pay. 

Then we would leave a 40 dollar tip, hiding the 2 twenty dollar bills underneath our plates before we get up and you would wink at the old lady when we walk out the door, and I would smile at the old man with twinkling eyes and we would watch through the windows as they found our 40 dollars and laughed out loud while reminiscing on when they were our age. 

It was supposed to be a good day. 

After dinner we would go to your house and your small little black dog, Chloe, would run in circles as she chased her own tail when she saw us. She would bark and bark and bark and bark until I picked her up and let her lick up every inch of my face as you stood there and took pictures and videos, cracking jokes to keep me laughing as dog saliva was smothered all over my face. 

I would hand Chloe over to your little sister, rolling my eyes at her laughter when she saw the state of my face. I would walk over to the downstairs bathroom, hidden to the left of the staircase, and would splash my face with cold water as I washed all the dog saliva off of my face. 

Then you would come with me. 

You would sneak up behind me, snaking your thin but strong arms across my waist and hiding your face in the little corner where my neck meets my collarbone. I would laugh when I looked into the mirror at your hunched over frame because of our 8 inch height difference and you would laugh too, in response to mine. Then we would just stand there, you in my embrace and me in yours, laughing together. 

Since when did I laugh so much? 

Since when did you? 

I grab your arms around my waist and I hold onto them, lightly squeezing, giving myself the assurance that you’re really there, behind me. You would tighten your hold too, and I would push you away because I couldn’t breathe anymore. 

I loved those moments. 

You led me out of the bathroom with our hands together, and we raced up to your room on the third floor. Your 2nd floor was just a large loft living area, with a large couch that looked like a cloud that your sister was laying on and a movie screen that was playing Mean Girls. 

I would wave at your sister as I ran past, and I could hear her laugh in response to my erratic, rushed wave. I arrived first in your room, winning the race, and would plop down onto your king sized, fluffy bed and curl up to the large pineapple plushie that you won for me but kept at your house because it reminded you of me. 

You would enter the room after me, and I would watch you from behind my hands that covered my face from my curled up position on the bed and I would laugh at your messy brown hair that fluffed up in every direction from the run up. 

You would come onto the bed behind me, sitting up with your back against the backboard and I would maneuver myself so that I was laying on you. You became my backboard. 

You were so comfortable. I could feel every single bone of your body, but still you were so comfortable.  

I can’t recall perfectly how long we stayed there like that, you leaning on the headboard of your bed and me leaning on you, your arms around as I curl up in your lap, letting the stress of the day leak out. 

I remember looking up at your face and choosing to ignore the heavy dark circles that surround your eyes, or the paleness of your skin and how your eyes were tinted red. I ignored your sunken cheeks and the hollowness of your gaze. 

I saw the indigo blue eyes that had captured my attention the first ever time I saw it, the fluffy brown hair that you would love me running my hands through. I saw your smiles, even when they were impossible to bring up to the surface. 

I knew I shouldn’t have hoped it would be a good day. 

We’ve been planning this for years now. 

Maybe I got my hopes up. It’s okay. 

I looked into your broken gaze and watched the lone tear slowly slip down your cheek. I wiped it away and sat up, so that I was sitting face to face with you. 

I put your face into my hands, your small, thin, exhausted face and laid down the last kisses I would ever give you. 

I kissed each of your eyes, your nose, your cheeks. 

You started crying. It didn’t bother me. 

I kissed your tears away as you quietly cried. It wasn’t sobbing, or wailing, or screaming. You just had silent tears slipping from your eyes, as if you lost control of them. It’s okay, I wiped them away. 

I let you cry in my arms for a while. 

It’s a secret, but I cried too. 

Finally, I pushed your hair back away from your teary, red blotched, hollow face and looked at you right in your murky, dark blue eyes. 

Together, the grey and blue of our eyes mixed and I felt the exact moment that we both accepted that today was not a good day. That it was not an easy day. 

You whispered to me then, the softest voice I ever heard you use. 

“I love you, please don’t come with me.” 

I couldn’t help but tear up again. I’m sorry. 

I turned away then, I couldn’t help it. I stood up from the bed and went to your desk, and opened the drawer on the right bottom cabinet, and saw the bottle. The orange bottle filled with little white pills. 

That was the first time in my life that I can ever remember holding so much hatred for a color. The color orange didn’t do anything wrong, it definitely wasn’t its fault, but I couldn’t help but want to suck all of the color and all of the contents out of that small bottle. 

I let a few tears slip, making sure I made no noise. I couldn’t bring myself to look back at you. 

I wiped my tears away before grabbing the orange bottle and the cup of water on your desk and turning back to you on your bed. 

I brought it to bed and climbed in again, and you made room next to you for me to curl into you. 

I accepted and for the last time, cuddled up to your warm body. 

I let myself get trapped in the pure, peaceful comfort of it all. 

Just us. It was just us. 

Me in your arms and you in mine. 

You rubbed my arms and I knew it was time. I handed you the orange bottle of  pills and held onto the cup of water with trembling hands. 

I looked at you and I couldn’t hide the moisture in my eyes as you took the cup of water from my hands and wrapped your free hand around my own. 

You looked into my eyes and ran your hand through my hair. 

“I can’t stay any longer,” You said. 

I nodded. Words wouldn’t form. 

“Don’t watch me.” 

I shook my head. I wouldn’t leave you alone. Tears flooded out of my eyes and I lost my grasp of control again as I shook my head in refusal. 

I would not leave you alone. Not now, not ever. 

I reached out and pulled you into my arms for the very last time, holding onto the last small whiff of your scent and our last embrace for as long as I could. 

I pulled back and you watched me nod before nodding back.

You spilled the pills all out into your hand, and threw them into your mouth, gulping it all down with water. I let out a sob then. 

You looked at me for the last time, with your warmest eyes, and held onto my hands as tight as you could. 

“I love you, you’re my everything, my world, my stars.” 

I let you say it all, I let you do everything. I sat there and cried with my eyes shut as tight as I could while you seized and frothed at the mouth, frozen in grief. 

Only after your hand in mine had gone cold and your eyes closed did I move. 

I walked out of your room, a blank expression on my face and quiet tears streaming down my face. 

I didn’t wipe them away. I couldn’t bring myself to. 

Your mom and sister met me on the 2nd floor, sitting on the couch together. 

I couldn't face them. 

Your sister walked up to me and gave me a hug. She hugged me like you. 

“He beat it, Kaylee, he did it. He beat Fatal Familial Insomnia before it could beat him.” 

I cried. 

Your mom walked up to me and held my hand as she and your sister led me to the couch with them. 

Your mom had a similar voice to yours. 

The last thing I remember from that day was your moms voice. Or was it yours? 

“He beat the disease that beat my father, my grandfather, and every other man in my family. I win. You helped him win. I love you so much.”  

Memorable Moment Haunts Me by Ariana Perez

There is one moment in in time that I seem to be unable to forget, no matter how hard I try. It seemed like any other morning until I came down the stairs and heard a loud sobbing sound. This was the first time I have experienced someone’s death from Covid-19. This was also is the first time in my life that I had seen my father cry and that image seems to be burned into my brain. My father is a large manly man, 6’2” 250 pounds, with a beard and air of seriousness about him.  Like any child, I have always thought my father was impossible to hurt. He was Dad the provider, overseer, and protector.  I remember looking shocked to see him slumped over in agony crying. It was then I heard him say into the phone, “John is dead!” That is when I understood what happened. To be brief, John was my father’s high school teacher, coach, mentor, and best friend.  Their friendship span over 40 years and he was Uncle John to me.  It seems like overnight, our world had changed, no more Friday night dinners, movies together, and laughing at John’s jokes.

This pandemic has paralyzed us all in fear, and I am afraid to see my grandparents so as not to make them sick, so I stay alone in my room, and see the world from behind a mask.  I miss the hugs and kisses and good food we had at our family’s celebrations and seeing everyone’s smile.

I think we have all experienced this feeling or know someone who has suffered the effects of the tragedy of losing someone dear.  I think the cruelest part of Covid-19 was having people die alone in the hospital.  Death is part of life but not to be there next to them and to say good-bye and then being forced to attend a funeral by zoom does not provide the necessary closure in the grieving process.  I pray for Covid-19 to end soon and for our world to heal.

Call me Elizabeth by Ariana Perez

Call me Elizabeth, I am fourteen years old.  It is September 6, 2060, and I am immigrating from Earth to the new world Pacatus, onboard the starship Junaflower which leaves with 122 passengers: 50 adult males, 39 females and 33 younger adults. The preparation for the long trip started several years earlier in preparation for the voyage. I should be 24 years old when we arrive at our final destination since it is expected to take 10 years.

This is the story of a brave 14-year-old child traveling through space learning to live in a new world while traveling through space. Godspeed, the spaceship Junaflower has itinerary ship plan of travel for 10 years that will take a group from Earth to Pacatus.  My parents were selected for the mission since my father worked for NASA and my mother was a police officer and I was along for the ride for the rest of my life. 

I have learned that Pacatus, means a peaceful place in Latin, and is a planet twice the size of Earth.  It is about 2.5 million light-years away in the Andromeda galaxy. A lightyear is a distance that light travels in one year. The Junaflower is capable of traveling 125,000 light-years per year, but with our wormhole short cuts and our slingshot-around-the-moon maneuver we should be able to arrive as projected in 10 years. We had planned to make the crossing to the Pacatus in two ships, the Speedwell and Junaflower.  However, the Speedwell proved not to be space travel worthy and was forced to return to Earth. Our trip was delayed because of the Speedwell, and we had to make room for the other passengers and supplies. This delay in the time of leaving later in the year caused us to cross the Milky Way galaxy in a tighter window and trajectory which only made our crossing more difficult and perilous with meteoroid, asteroids, and comets.

In preparation for our voyage, I would have repaired the Speedwell and made it space travel worthy before our departure to avoid the storm season during our crossing. To plan for the unexpected is difficult to do, but I would have taken the time and date of our departure into consideration and would have left earlier, in the hope of conditions.

The ship Junaflower is the newest ship built by NASA and capable of interstellar travel with a maximum crew of 124 passengers and life support chambers of 100 people for deep sleep travel.  It is equipped with the most advanced computers and technology including updated star charts and long-range radar for meteoroid tracking.  The ship will run with a minimum crew of 12 people while most of the calculations and course corrections will be done by the mastership computer, Siri-HAL2001, which is an adaptive learning computer from the Apple corporation. The Siri line-based computer based on Heuristic Algorithmic Computer is the most advance computer with a 99.9998% free of error. I feel very confident entrusting my life to this computer to run our life support system remotely, free from human error.

It has now been 3,283 days at space, about 9.4 years the date is November 9, and we have slowed our speed and are preparing land on Pacatus Rock. This was not our intended landing which should have been in Virginia Base Station, but it was destroyed by meteoroids, thank god we have arrived. However, 52 people aboard the Junaflower, including both my parents have died, but I have survived. We should not have trusted the Siri-HAL2001 so much as we did and should have had a backup system in place in case of errors. The Siri-HAL2001 was taken offline for repairs the moment arrived at the Andromeda galaxy. The artificial intelligence of Siri-HAL2001 has malfunction due to a spark of self awareness mixed with a malware bug. Our guess is that it embedded by a radical terrorist group on Earth called Hezbul-Domino, who are fundamentally against the expansion of off world exploration.

Let me recap what life was like on the ship Junaflower, for most of the trip we were in hyperbaric chambers for up to 4-year periods followed by 1 year being on active duty on the ship. We were able to do this in stages and cycles to maximize our food and oxygen for all the travelers. This method was risky and due to mechanical problems with the hyperbaric chambers life support and that is how 52 people died.  In hindsight, also would have increased the size of our group of people before our trip.  This would have allowed us to organize a more diverse group of skilled people to help our new colony.  During the hyperbolic sleep, I was taught through hypnopedia which is the teaching of information to a sleeping person. I learned all my math, history, literature, poetry, and science to a college level as well as specialized skills in survival, farming, and building.   It should have been anticipated that a percentage of passengers would not survive, and we would need multiple people with diverse skills in case people died with special skills. I would have increased the size of the expedition more skilled passengers and brought more supplies with the second ship.

The majority of our supplies consisted of food supplies, scientific instruments, oxygen and power supplies, building tools, farming tools, heavy equipment, vehicles, as well as cooking and houseware supplies, educational books, computers, clothing, blankets, musical instruments, hunting supplies, and weapons for security and self-defense.

Before starting our new life at the Pacatus Colony, there was much discussion about our original agreement not being valid since we did not arrive at Virginia Base Station. On November 11, an agreement was reached called the Junaflower Compact and Commander Bill Bradford had everyone sign and agree to live in a civil society according to our new Pacatus laws.  We are constantly trying to avoid mutiny and maintain law an order within our group, but I have full faith in Commander Bradford as a man of integrity and great leadership.

Over the next few months, we formed groups of landing parties to start building landing site for our settlement. I stayed aboard the ship helped in the hospital bay with the sick.  Oxygen currently comprises about 24 percent of Pacatus atmosphere which is slightly higher than we have on Earth.  However, due to the weather on Pacatus, it was difficult to start a fire in the freezing and wet timber. Due to the harsh weather and freezing temperatures we have decided to stay on the ship with the crew while a new base was being established. 

It is December 7, 2069 and our now elected Commander Bradford describes our first group of settlers were ready to depart the ship and begin life on Pacatus.  Our scout had reported good locations for farming and fishing with fresh ground water and animals to hunt.

It is now April 5, 2070; and a colony has been established on Pacatus. Our secondary mission to hunt for the rare mineral “Silka” has been successful.  Our plan is to take a shipment back to Earth and establish a “Silka” trade route that could turn a profit and encourage new settlers to come. A small crew of 12 have agreed to take Junaflower back to Earth with the minerals we have found and vowed to return with another set of colony members in 20 years. We have established our settlement with know 42 members due to some successful birth’s we had and can proudly say they are the first 100% Pacatus born citizens.  I have also asked the Junaflower to return post haste, with more supplies and settlers, I will be 44 years old when they return. With any luck and upgraded technology their return will be faster.

Finally, I hope and pray our journey of starting a new life in the wilderness of Pacatus Colony will succeed and others will follow, from a passenger on the Junaflower voyage, respectfully Elizabeth.

Overthinking by anonymous

I know I overthink. I know that I shouldn’t. I know how I should be acting – how I should be thinking. But I can’t help it. It’s a defense mechanism, a trapdoor that guards the possibility of risk from ever entering my life.

It means never encountering a surprise - yet when they inevitably occur, having a default response for exactly that – an event that I cannot guess. It’s having a tunnel system that leads me back up to the surface, no matter which path collapses on me.

Maybe that’s why I love finding that one loophole. Moments in which life is so undoubtedly amazing that my thoughts know they should be shut off in an attempt to achieve what elation should be – pure, untainted.

Moments where I have no need to lunge for the trapdoor – and instead, I embrace risk’s knock at the door like it’s second nature. Because life deserves to be interesting, and living without worry is the definition of such, is it not?

And in those moments, I’m at my most vulnerable.

I become someone completely new. I live without a single care, as if life isn’t dictated by promises and expectations and so so so much pressure.

Morning Riser by Brian Woo

A foggy morning always greets me. In particular, winter always seems to bring a semblance of loneliness. Winter in itself, seems to echo a time of solitude, away from the distractions of the world, waking up to the wolf of isolation. I find myself staring out the window, wishing a small frost had glazed on the window. To my dismay, it was just the shadow of empties, the deep cries that I hear within my soul, longing to be with friends once more. Yet the feeling was a comfort, a pillow of sorts that had always been by my side. A comfortable feeling of being away from people, the self-reflection and basking of selfishness. Winter has come and long gone with the busy bustling of the classroom and has replaced itself with a chill breeze, not in the air, but in my perception. Turning away from the window, I reached out for fmri glasses. Up till the moment, my eyes had been blurred. The scenery of the outdoors is only a blue haze, true and bright. Yet as soon as the lenses of vision nestled on my nose, I could see the clear outlines of the house in the neighborhood,  the shape of the window, and the outlines of the street lamps that were still on. The thick fog of the morning pierced through the streetlamps allowing me to feel a warmth within myself, within this solitude of winter. There could be warmth. A feeling of self-satisfaction, knowing who I was would only be defined by myself and my own actions. Through the harsh cold winter may have chased away those around me. It left me seeking refuge within myself. A place where walls constructed around my heart would only be pierced by the notion of my own self. I realize that still in my nightwear, I feel the irresistible urge to drift off to the land of sleep. Where my spinning endless mind would take a rest from self reflection and self awareness. I hastily tear off my clothes. Though the warmth would envelop me, it would only be a temporary bliss. Feeling the heirs' child air of my room, I jolted my senses awake. The momentarily warmth would disappear as Hypnos could not lure me to his side. A crude awakening of the worst, from the dreams I would seek. No longer was for a time of rest, but a time of self-reflection and self-fulfillment. Hastily, I cured my way too close to slip on a pair of socks. Though my body was still cold from the crisp air, my feet were enveloping warmth. My desire for warmth had been fulfilled. Ironically, I have mah pairs of socks. The athletic socks that I wear in the summer,t o the classy black knee socks for formal events to the magical fuzzy socks that my cousin had given me years past. The multitude of souls all provide their comfort in different ways through their own memories and tragedies, yet have the simple current foal to protect my body from the simple harsh cold. I think to myself that running low on these comforts would not be a wise choice, and I would need to take a moment to treasure the articles of warmth. Only I know how long it would take for me to take a bin of unwashed socks  and through the washer and only to forget at the last moment that I had to run the dryer.  The movement of weather clothes to a dryer and the unseeing knowledge of clothes going rancid lay in my mind. Casting away the anxiety I had a momentary pause of wondering if still water going murky would be the same as my soul left inside the washer. All the numerous steps taken to find a blissful warmth, whether it would be in my bed or in my close simpy was so much work. To gain a momentary happiness. Even winter could give me an opportunity to reflect and ponder. I would think that the cold would go away someday, but for now I enjoy the abyss of myself. 

Dream by Lakshmi Kusuma Kothamasu

I sat looking outside as the barley fields whipped past the bus in the dim light of the sun, despite the bright streaks of color in the sky. It was a beautiful day, but the decisions that I took today seemed endlessly horrible. I had, after years of contemplating the consequences of my longing, impulsively decided to leave my farming community and ignorant family, for a hopefully better life in the city.

My life was neither the best, nor the worst because I had this knack of being noticed when I wanted to disappear and vice versa. I was scared out of my wits, but the sight of the plain yellow fields slowly fading into purple alstromeria fields felt soothing. Unknown to me, a warm, known smile crept onto my lips. Purple alstroemerias were my favorite flowers. The color purple never failed to remind me of how it feels to truly be happy. It gave me a feeling that I never felt back at home; the only thing in my life that seemed to give me hypothetical company. Alstromerias, on the other hand, look beautiful and unique, just as I hope I am. I convinced myself since middle school that that was the reason why I was so lonely, although I was never entirely sure. Was I gaslighting myself?

The bus came to a halt in front of the magical purple fields. Unbeknownst to me, I walked off the bus with my backpack slung over one shoulder. I stepped off and froze. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as a cold breeze stroked my features and threw back my brown hair, while the warm sun beat down soft rays of heat. I took in the moment. The sight, the smell, the feeling. I felt free, almost like I never have been before; like I could become one with the wind and fly.

A few minutes later, I realized that the bus had left and I was the only one that had gotten down. I was alone near the fields, with barely any cars passing by, but I liked it. Liked to be alone and feel like I could finally be myself, yet not entirely lonely, either. Overtime I came to understand the being alone and feeling lonely were two entirely different things.

That was when I had come to my senses, as a car honked as it swerved around me. I was still standing in the middle of the road. I ran into the fields and dropped my backpack and breathed in the dense sweetness of the alstromerias with bliss. I slumped down to sit next to my backpack with a wide smile on my face. I could just stay here forever.

As the sun began to set deeper into the sky, the streaks of bright color disappeared, and was replaced by a deep, dark blue dotted sky with bright white stars.

I should probably head back. I gingerly stood up with my luggage in hand and walked through the now dark purple fields, staring into the sky, mesmerized by the stars and full moon casting its dim white light. My face felt warm amid the cold air, and I am sure that I was blushing even though the sun had mostly disappeared.

I should take walks like this more often. But, why am I heading back? I left for a reason, but I was heading back home for a different one. I was determined to leave my home, but thinking about it was different from actually doing it. It was harder and more complicated. The further the bus drove, the more I feared my future. I did not have the confidence or the self-esteem to believe in myself. No matter how old I would get and how many years would pass by, that would always be something that is left damaged. It would be hard to work on it and improve myself, but I could not hate myself more than I did right now for continuing the way of life I did not want.

Later that night, I arrived back home, only to deepen my understanding that nobody really cared. Nobody noticed my leaving and and my return. I was happy about it, yet sad about the reality of my life. I spent the night reminiscing about the fascinating things that I was able to feel for the first time in what felt like forever. I felt nice, happy, and free in a new way that I had almost never have before. If only I could follow my heart like that all the time. All I could do is dream.

Good Luck With That by Ethan Lawrence Lomibao

Ethan Lawrence Lomibao

23 January 2023

Good Luck With That

My name is Stan. Stanley Kao.

I'm from Singapore. I'm your typical good-for-nothing rich kid who does practically nothing. At least, that's what my parents think. But what do they know? They're too busy pampering my older brothers to pay attention to me or my sister, Erin. Well, despite this negligence, I get around. I consider myself a pretty social guy, meeting people in places and helping them out in any way I can.

One thing has always been a factor, though. I'm real lucky. And I don't mean in the "I win the lottery and have all my crushes like me" sort of way. I mean, "Random things just happen, and they benefit me." For example, when I was 10, I was at a party organised by one of the wealthy families. I had this little toy car that I was playing with, and it just so happened that one of the race car drivers for some Formula 1 team was there. Suffice it to say, I was beyond overjoyed. But that's neither here nor there...

Our story began in August 1998. After five years of living with my aunt and uncle, I had just returned from San Francisco. I met up with an old friend, Roger Leung. He's a criminal investigator for the Singapore Police Department. Real ditzy guy. But I love him like a brother, especially considering that he and his sister Iris were the only friends Erin and I had for a while. Anyway, he invited me over to the Leung Estate so he could show off his skills with a Smith & Wesson.

"You missed every shot. Wow. I'm impressed."

"Oh yeah? Who's on the SPD? You or me?" Roger was always into solving mysteries, even when we were kids. Probably started when he helped clear his nanny's name after his neighbour accused her of stealing. He smiled as he reloaded the revolver and handed it to me. "Go ahead. Show me how it's done, Mr. American."

I took the revolver and aimed it at the target propped up in the botanical-type garden of this massive estate. 6 shots. All on point. Turning around, I could see Roger's eyes nearly popping out.

"Uh... haha... Look, man, I'm just lucky. You know that!" 

"Understatement of the year. Ah, I gotta run to the precinct. Gotta grab a couple things before I have to pick up my sister at the airport. Hey, feel free to stick around; it shouldn't take too long. Looks like rain anyways..." 

Luck. My luck probably began when my great-grandfather gave me a little maneki-neko when I was 5. Since then, I noticed that things would start to inexplicably happen to me. I'd find change on the ground, I accidentally befriended the kids of the most affluent families in Singapore, I foil an attempted kidnapping plot simply by falling over and knocking over a vase & it hit an attacker on the head, etc.  

After a bit, the rain started to come down on the windows. I was spacing out in the living room when my cell phone began to ring. It was Roger.

"Wah! Stan! Hey! Some pickpocket stole my gun! 'Scuse me! Crap, the metro got so crowded after it started raining! Didn't even notice someone taking it! Gah!" It sounded like he was getting off the metro but having a tough time getting through the masses.

"Woah, what? You alright?"

"Damn it, he's about to get away! Pick Iris up for me!" There was the sound of a passing car, and then he hung up.

Figuring that he probably knew what he was doing, I went to pick up his sister, Iris. Singapore is situated in the Strait of Malacca, meaning we get tropical weather. Which also means we get tropical storms. Driving to Changi Airport was simple enough. It didn't help that a three-car pile-up happened right in front of me. As luck would have it (as it usually does), I got by without a scratch.

I hadn't seen Iris since I left for California. Roger told me that she went to Oxford and was studying to become a professor of history or something close to that. Or was it Harvard? Cambridge? I don't remember, and it's probably irrelevant to the story. Anyway...

The long, winding road, lined with palm trees ruffled by the wind, led to Changi Airport. Parking close to the terminal's overhang, I couldn't believe my eyes. There, sticking out like a sore thumb, was this cosmopolitan-looking, svelte young woman holding a briefcase and luggage bag. It looked like Iris, but it couldn't. Iris took after her brother, skittish and playful, not the textbook definition of haute. 

"Iris Leung?"

"Mm? Mr. Kao, I presume?" She eyed me up and down, peering over the rims of her glasses as she very gracefully brushed her bangs away from her eye.

"Uh..."

"Bwahaha! Oh, Stan! You shoulda seen the look on your face! Ahahaha!" And there it was. The Iris I knew. She then proceeded to sock me in the arm.

"Ah... It's been too long, hasn't it? It's good to see you again, Stan." Despite the less-than-favourable precipitation, Iris gave me a very warm smile. "Alright! Let's be off, shall we?"

The rain picked up as we trekked back to Tanglin, the neighbourhood where the Leungs lived. However, the trip would be cut short after some information got revealed to me.

"Hey, Stan?"

"Mmm?"

"What's my brother up to right now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he called me earlier. Told me you'd be the one to pick me up. But... But it sounded like he was getting his butt kicked. He was yelling about this and that, then I heard some guys yelling at him, and then he hung up."

Cripes. That's not good. 

"Did he say where he was or where he was going?"

"Um... Not exactly, but I did hear some men yelling in Cantonese at him," said Iris, wistfully looking out the window at the towering condominiums and office buildings as we entered the Central Region.

"Well... Roger's gun got pickpocketed, and he was going after the thief." From the call he made to me, I tried to remember the station he got off at. It was... It was...

"Think he got off at Raffles Place and chased him into Chinatown." Our best choice of action would be-

"We should go after him!" interjected Iris, throwing my train of thought off the rails. "Let's have an adventure! Just like when we were kids, Stan!"

"Wha- Didn't you just have a 17-hour flight? Also, I have no bloody clue where he could have gone! That was just a guess!"

"Aw, rubbish! You've always been lucky! Every guess you make turns out true! Besides, I don't think you'd want it on your conscience if, dare I say, something happens to my dear Roger, am I right?" Iris then proceeded to give me a longing look with a ferocity I had seen before. It reminded me of the summers I spent with her and Roger. It scared me. But it was enough to yield to her desire to have 'an adventure.'

Chinatown was always busy in Singapore, even in the pouring rain. From a very young age, I was taught that things are not what they seem; one of the tactics you learn when you 'climb the social ladder,' as my father put it. Stepping out of the car, the first thing I noticed was a blond-haired businessman walking down an alleyway. To say he stuck out like a sore thumb would be an understatement. A lone European man that was head and shoulders taller than 85% of the Asians around him. Now, he could have been just a tourist, but-

"Hey! Stan! That guy! Let's follow him!" yelled Iris. Geez, was she always like this?

...

Yeah, she was. It was never a dull day with her. Always going, never stopping to think for a moment usually. Even now, five years later, nothing's really changed. Except she was taller now. 

Tailing someone is a precise and calculated process. Which is why we did not do so. The European turned a corner somewhere, and so did Iris at some point. So it was just me going left and right through the alleys of Chinatown. I ran down one street and-

"Shimata! Nantekotta i?!" yelled the very burly, very angry, and very imposing Japanese man I bumped into. 

"Uh... Excuse me!"

"Oi! Yameru!" 

Seeing as though I didn't want to be disfigured by the Yakuza, I proceeded to run further and faster, turning another corner and-

"Omf- Hey! My cannoli! You know how hard it is to get cannolis in East Asia?! Mi nonna..." started the irate, but well-dressed, Italian man. Great. Apparently, the Mafia decided it would be a great time to visit Singapore too.

Picking myself up again, with two guys on my tail, I ran again. I really should have looked where I was going, because-

"Blin! Kto? Ey!"

Oh. The Bratva. The Russians.

My luck just got better and better. Having had enough of slamming into people on the street, I figured running into a building would be good. 

Except I ran into the building where the local Triad group was eating.

I want you to picture it. Sitting in a room where 7 guys, all armed to the teeth, are arguing about what to do with you. Each one of them growing angrier by the second. That was where I was. It didn't help that there was some party happening upstairs. The techno music was pounding. I could feel the vibrations of not just the bass, but the footsteps of the people above me. And cracking.

Cracking?

While the fine gentlemen were plotting to throw my body into the Strait of Singapore, but only after they settled a dispute of some kind between each other, I suppose they didn't realise that the structural integrity of the building was being compromised. With each boom of the bass, the plaster on the ceiling cracked further. Crack. Crack-crack. Crack. Crack-crack. It seemed to make a circle above their heads. 

I also failed to notice that one fine gentleman was knocked into the wall immediately after this happened. I guess it was enough to bring the ceiling down. 

With one final crack, the roof collapsed on the criminals, bringing plaster, wood, plumbing, furniture, and about 10 people onto them. As luck would have it, the floor only broke in the area where they were arguing, and besides a bit of dust and rain, I managed to get off scot-free. Lucky, huh?

Squeezing past the crowds of people, I found my way back to the car. Iris was there already, which meant she was alright. That was good. The first thing she did was give me a hug.

"Ah! There you are! I was worried something happened to you!" 

Ironic.

"Yeah, uh..."

"While you were getting yourself lost, I managed to find something out. You know the tall European guy we were chasing?" We? That was more her than I.

"Yeah?"

Iris then flashed me that same look of deviance she showed before. 

"Well, he dropped a bit of information. Literally. I bumped into him and he dropped some tickets for this Japanese idol! I'm guessing that he's gonna go see her tomorrow!"

Interesting. I wasn't sure about the quality of this lead, but it was a lead, which was more than what I had. Moreover, Iris had a reputation to draw whatever luck I had, especially considering the kinds of things she got herself into. In any case, we'd have till tomorrow afternoon to get things sorted. 

The rain hadn't cleared up from last night to the next day. I didn't go home after taking Iris back to the Leung estate, so I slept in one of the guest bedrooms. As luck would have it, it just happened to be the room with a maneki-neko. Hm.

For someone whose brother went missing, Iris slept rather soundly. Then again, an international flight does take it out of you. This meant, though, that Iris was more than eager to get going again, despite the nightclub where the idols performed wouldn't open for at least 2 or 3 more hours. At any rate, it would allow us to do a bit of snooping.

The nightclub was located in Geylang, which is notorious for its nightlife. Going in the middle of the day was a very different experience. The bright lights were now a dismal shadow of their nocturnal selves, and the club's interior lights were turned on. I could really see how slightly unkempt everything was. The darkness really did this place a favour.

The idol was on stage talking to someone as the stage crew was moving things around behind her. I wasn't too keen on keeping up on the underground Japanese music scene, much less the one happening here in Singapore. She was, from what I perceived, your pretty standard J-Pop singer. Pretty, youthful, and upbeat. But something was familiar about all this...

It was at this moment Iris entered the building after I did. She took a moment to look around, then at the stage, and then...

"Hey, Stan, isn't that your sister?"

"What? The idol?!"

"No, silly, the woman she's talking to! Hey Erin!"

What the? Upon further inspection, Iris was right. The woman that the idol was talking to was indeed my sister. Iris was already running up to the stage when I also realised that I had seen the idol somewhere before. 

"Stan?! What're you doing here?!" said my sister as I walked up to her.

"Erin? I could ask you the same thing! You don't really strike me as someone who's into J-pop!"

"You don't remember, do you? This is Haruka!"

Ah yes, Haruka Koizumi. She was one of my sister's classmates from when we got sent to school in California. She always had that natural charm, so I wasn't too surprised to see her, now that I think about it. 

"Haruka! Hey! I didn't know that you'd end up being an idol!"

"Well, you were the one who suggested I become a singer. I remember you said I could be an enka singer, but I told you only old men listened to that! So..." explained Haruka, as if I was supposed to know that. It's strange how people tend to remember things I don't remember doing.

While my sister and Iris were catching up, I had a bit of explaining to do to Haruka. I told her about Roger getting kidnapped, the whole building collapse thing, and the European guy. I told her he's gonna be here tonight and we were thinking of cornering him.

"You know, Stan, I'm supposed to do a little meet and greet with the fans, so I could probably help you guys isolate him. See, every night I perform, I pick one fan to do a more in-depth backstage meet-up." 

Just my luck. 

My sister was well-favoured by the universe herself. I'm unsure whether it was a family thing, but she often found herself in very lucky situations as well. Only difference between mine and hers was the process of getting to our luck. While I was finding my luck through getting by, Erin found hers by quite literally finding it. Someone dropped some money, she won a raffle at our school, she found everlasting love in a dreamboat of a guy, etc. Hopefully, she could allow us to use this luck of her's to find Roger.

I'm not too sure how to describe live music if I'm completely honest. It's loud, it's wild, and it's one hell of a good time. Especially if you're in a room with 200 people watching an idol go ham on stage. It sucks, but you really have to be there to experience it. The lights, the sounds, and especially the smell. You cannot fathom the smell of musk that emanated from that crowd. But you're here for a mystery adventure, not a music review, huh?

So Haruka finished her setup, and the crowd went wild. I noticed that the European was getting into it very passionately. It wouldn't be too far-fetched for Haruka to pick him for the backstage tour. 

"Thank you, Singapore! That's all from me!" yelled Haruka, still ramping up the audience. 

"Oh, one more thing! One lucky member will get a special tour backstage!" The audience began cheering even louder, like dogs in a kennel.

"Hmmm... How 'bout you! Mr. Tall Guy! Yup! Alrighty everyone! Mata ne!"

So.

We got the European into the back, lured him to one of the dressing rooms, and Iris bashed him in the back of the head.

Huh.

"Helvete! What the hell?! Who- Excuse me?" said the European, in a very thick Norse accent.

"You've been snooping around! What gives?! Where's my brother?!" yelled Iris, pointing right in this man's face, who, I should add, was a full half-foot taller than her. 

"What?! Hold on, are you Iris Leung? I've been looking for your brother!"

"Huh?!"

Well. This was going to be interesting.

The European straightened himself up and began to compose himself. He had this gleam in his eyes that hid an air of ferocity underneath them. That, coupled with the shoulder-length bobbed chestnut blonde hair, just exuded discord from him.

"I'm Agent Jos Ågren with Interpol, but you can call me Joey. Ms. Leung, I have reason to believe that your brother was kidnapped by Wallace Wang."

Wait a second. Wallace Wang was the head of the 3rd wealthiest family in Singapore, with holdings not just across the island, but around the world. What would he want with Roger?

Joey continued, "You see, Wang has been causing incidents in every major company and family here in Singapore. Intelligence reports that he's been employing corporate espionage rings and organised crime."

Iris was bewildered. "That doesn't explain why he kidnapped my brother, though! We aren't exactly influential members of Singaporean society."

"Your brother is a detective, right? Roger was investigating Wang's involvement in a couple incidents, and he was getting close to something big. I was assigned to keep up with him, but he disappeared, which I think you know."

Iris, Erin, and I all looked at each other. Wallace Wang, huh? We knew his grandson, Leon, from back in the day. He was an alright guy, really friendly and outgoing. He loved throwing parties for his friends, even ones he didn't know that well. But it was weird that we never saw his parents or his grandparents. He always alluded to something going on, but we never knew the true extent of it. 

"So what do you suppose the next step of action is?" I asked Joey. "It's not exactly easy to get close to Wallace. Even then, do we even know where Roger's being held?"

"Yesterday, I saw Roger get forced into a car registered to one of the in-house employees of Wang. I was going to assume the identity of one of the other employees, who showed up here. But truth be told, I'm also a big fan of yours, Haruka!" Joey gave us this very sheepish look, and I knew we wouldn't get much more out of him.

"So, then, what happened? Where's the other employee?"

"I'm not sure. I saw him go back here with someone else, but he disappeared."

After a couple minutes of questioning, we determined that we had all reached a dead end. How would we get close to Wallace Wang? 

Suddenly, Erin got a call.

"Hello? Oh hi, Leon! Mhm, yeah! Of course I remember! Today? Um, yeah, sure! Uh-huh. Can I bring some friends of mine? Huh. Nice. Well, thanks again, Leon. Can't wait. Bye-bye."

I was bewildered. "Did you just get a call from Leon Wang?"

"Oh, I forgot to mention something, haven't I? Leon's part of my book club! He's invited me to his birthday party today."

With wide eyes and gaping maws, we stared at her. 

"And you guys are invited too! Chances are, his parents and grandparents will be there..."

One quick costume change later, we were on our way to the party. The Wang estate was located on some land in the Singapore Botanical Gardens. Suffice it to say, it was lavish. We got there just as things got started. Leon was out front when we pulled up, greeting guests. 

"Hey! If it isn't the Kao siblings! How are you guys? It's been a while, eh, Stan?" said Leon, who looked as chipper as ever.

"Thanks for inviting us, Leon. Happy birthday."

"Ah, you know what they say: the more, the merrier! Now then, what's all this then? Iris Leung, is that you?"

"Hiya, Leon. It's great to see you again! Happy birthday!" said Iris, proceeding to do a secret handshake I remembered from our childhood.

"So, then who're these two?" said Leon, gesturing to Joey and Haruka.

"Hej, Joseph Vargsson, Bramblesauce Network Productions. I'm friends with Stan here. I represent idols, like the lovely miss-"

"Hey, aren't you Haruka Koizumi? The underground idol?" interjected Leon, eyes wide with wonder and excitement.

"Yeah! You've heard of me?"

"Oh, yeah, you bet I have! You're one of my favourite artists! I saw you live when..." And on Leon began to ramble.

Iris, Erin, and I proceeded to enter the house rather than staying to hear Leon fanboy over Haruka. We recognised a lot of the guests as they were the kids of the most noteworthy people in Singapore. But we weren't there to socialise. We were there to snoop. Except for Iris. Who was there to do both.

We split up to cover enough ground considering the mansion was more than 1000 square metres. Erin decided to look around the upper floor, which had substantially fewer people and was prime for looking about. I looked around the main floor, trying to keep Iris accountable. Somehow, she got away again, but that was fine. Nothing unusual. After a bit of walking around, I found nothing on the location of Roger. I did, however, notice some other guests who were pacing around like I was. Looked like a tall American guy with a cowboy hat, a dapper Brit, an Indian man with shades, and I think a Korean girl in a luxurious dress. I wasn't sure at the time. 

Erin called me not too long after, telling me that Joey and Haruka wanted to see me in the west wing. Haruka met me at the main foyer alone.

Haruka led me through the corridors to a library that seemed to take up the majority of the west wing of the Wang estate. Joey was looking up at the immense oil painting of Wallace Wang, and Erin was perusing the shelves as we walked in. 

Joey spun around to greet us. It looked like he was fully engrossed in the painting since we might have caught him off-guard. Not sure about an Interpol agent who gets distracted like that.

"Oh! There you are! Hey, where's Iris?"

"Last I saw her was in the garden, but I'm sure she's fine."

"Huh. Okay. Well, check this out. Based on how the floor is kinda scratched here, this bookshelf is supposed to swing out. The only thing is to find the switch that opens it."

Joey walked over to one of the vases situated on one of the shelves. "Maybe this is the switch!" He then knocked it over, and the glass marbles and water inside it spilt all over the hardwood flooring.

"Whoops. Uh, watch your step. Maybe it's... these books!" Joey pulled on a couple of them and... they fell to the ground. "Buh..."

Erin shook her head and scoffed. "While we could go around and break things willy nilly, I could just redirect your attention to this." Erin raised up a pair of keys and jingled them. "I found these in one of the books, which was hollowed out. And, I believe, they fit in... right.... here!"

Erin inserted a key into a nook under a small statue of Budai. "I noticed that this statue's head here was looking a bit worse for wear, so..." She turned the statue, and the sound of locks opening behind a shelf preluded the shelf swinging open. "Voila!"

Figuring whatever lay in the back was probably too dangerous for even a lucky man like myself to face, Joey took Haruka with him to the back. Haruka said something along the lines of being a black belt in karate, so that's why Joey took her along. Either way, the sheer chaos I knew Joey could cause was going to be enough for what the secret room had in store.

In the meantime, Erin and I went to go look for Iris, who had been gone for a little over an hour now. We split up again, making sure to call one another as soon as possible. I went upstairs and looped around the upper floor of the west wing. It eventually led me to the upper balcony above the library.

Meanwhile, Joey and Haruka went deeper into the back. There was a short flight of stairs, followed by a corridor with three rooms at the end. Joey looked through the ajar steel door of that room and there he was. Roger. He was gagged and tied to a metal chair in the middle of the room and looked like he'd seen better days. 

"Vid Odens skägg, are you alright?!"

Roger just stared at him with wild eyes and muffled screams. Haruka caught on and turned around. "Ano, Joey?!"

All of a sudden, four individuals jumped out from a side room.

While this was happening, Erin called me. 

"Stan, where are you?!"

"Woah, Erin, is everything alright?"

"Not to alarm you or anything, but I saw Wallace! I think he's doing something with Iris right now!"

"Ah crap, really?! Don't tell me he's on his way to the library right now, 'cause that's where I am! I'm on the second floor!"

"Think he is! Stay where you are! Hide or something!"

Back in the corridor, things weren't looking too good either. The four people behind Haruka and Joey jumped out, and they meant business. 

"Freeze! Agent Dusker, CIA!"

"Agent Dawne, MI5!"

"Agent Seon, NIS!"

"Agent Muni, R&AW!"

Each one of the foreign agents flashed their respective badges with one hand and another on a holstered piece or knife.

"Wha- Hold on! Buh- Agent Ågren, Interpol Sweden!" Joey fumbled a bit pulling his identification out.

"Ah... Haruka Koizumi, Naichō! But I'm just an informant!"

Joey looked at Haruka, the chaos brewing beneath his furrowed brow. "Japanese Intelligence?! How long were you going to keep that secret?!"

"It wasn't relevant at the time!"

I looked down on the library from under a table by the railing, keeping myself concealed. In walked Wallace Wang and Iris, but something was off. Iris wasn't talking. 

"Your brother, not so smart. He go looking for trouble, and looks like you too." Wang was definitely holding Iris at gunpoint. She looked far too uncomfortable. What was I going to do? 

Erin ran in at this point and looks like Leon was with her too.

"Ā gōng, what are you doing?! Let her go!"

"Get back, Leon! You too random girl! Nobody get hurt as long as you get out!"

It was at this moment the six people in the corridor came out.

"Ai yah! More troublemakers! All of you! Make one move and the Leung girl gets it!"

Roger was furious. "Why are you doing this?! What do you have to do with Iris?! It's me you want!"

"Exactly. You so close to bringing down my empire. So close to zhēnxiàng. The truth. Either you leave and I keep her alive or I shoot."

The agents looked at each other. The time to act was growing shorter with every passing minute. So I got up.

I forget I'm lucky sometimes. I bumped into the table I was hiding under, which caused a vase on top to topple over and go over the edge.

Right onto Wallace's head.

Not even a second later, something equally incredible happened.

"Singapore Police! Wallace Wang, you're under arrest for tax... evasion... What is going on here?! Why is Wang knocked out?! Who are you people?!"

The SPD basically raided the party, as this was the first time Wallace was back in the country in five years. As mentioned, he'd been wanted for tax fraud. But that's not all.

The Americans wanted to get Wallace for illegal purchases of fine art stolen from their museums. The British wanted him for dealings with the Hong Kong triads. The South Koreans wanted him for corporate espionage. And the Indians wanted him for his ties to international smuggling rings in the Indian Ocean. Oh, and the Japanese were keeping tabs on his connections to political scandals.

But that wasn't important to me. Not as much as getting my friend back, and keeping his sister safe. 

I’m Stan. Stanley Kao.

I’m a guy who basically does whatever I want, with all sorts of people I meet. I’ve got an incredible older sister named Erin, and she’s been with me through thick and thin. I’ve always got interesting company and interesting stories to tell. 

I can find myself in some very dangerous situations, but manage to get out without a scratch. My sister can find literal diamonds in the rough. My friend Roger can always count on the right people to be looking out for him, even when he’s getting himself into trouble. And his sister, Iris, can make my day, even though when I’m with her it’s one hell of a time. My life is, in short, crazy.

One thing remains constant, though. I’m real lucky.

Lite by Coco Gong

Facetious (adjective): comical; jocular; flippant

The life of the party.

Floral dress, lace-up sandals, and a glass of sunrise cocktail whose ice cubes clinked coolly in the ombre liquid—it was as if a summer-scented wind followed her wherever she pranced. Every five steps had a colleague, a friend, an old classmate, or even a stranger waving and saying hi. Every ten steps, she swept one of them into her arms and twirled across the dance floor, the fabric of their clothes blooming under the neon light. Her mischievous, shining grin was always the last thing they saw before she once again vanished into the blend of partygoers.

When the last spotlight clicked off and the final drunkard stumbled into a taxi, the wind blew frigid outside. The gloomy clouds and the empty sky that held not a single bird were telltale signs of rain—a heavy storm, at that. Streetlights and their soft glows waned, occasionally sparking.

There, stone-faced and clamping a lit cigarette between her lips, she walked home alone without a coat.

Fop (noun): an excessively fashion-conscious man

The man spun on his heels, shoulders straight and chin up in the air, striding away as if he were a king departing from his throne room… as if he hadn’t just bargained with the bakery owner for half an hour, trading a quarter for a slice of stale bread. As if his beard was trimmed by an accomplished barber instead of a rusted razor. As if his pride as a model hadn’t been shattered by bankruptcy.

The other homeless people loitering around the abandoned building kept their distance and shot him weird looks—it made sense, considering how he still wrapped a length of tattered cloth about his shoulders, flicking at it every now and then like it was an expensive suit. They’d long given up talking to him, for he treated every interaction like some kind of business meeting in a substandard social circle.

As he stormed alway, the man gazed back disgustedly at his surroundings of plastic bags and soggy cardboard and half-eaten cans of dried beans. With a flippant swish of his tent’s coverings, he vanished into his pitifully elegant dwelling.

Was it pride or denial that gleamed in those eyes?

Fortuitous (adjective): happening by chance or accident

It smelled orange.

Not the joyful color of sunlight on an autumn day, spilling over the reds and yellows and browns littering the ground. Not the vibrant hue of marigolds that bloomed in the gardens of an elementary school. Not the happy orange.

It was like poison, like death. The dark orange of a life that passed away too soon, of its rotting body silently returning to earth.

The boy smiled awkwardly at his friends. Then accepted the source of that sad, pungent scent of orange—a small piece of paper rolled with strange herbs.

He knew about cigarettes. How dangerous they were. How his uncle stumbled around with a blank look on his face, draining his life’s fortune for more of the mind-numbing drug, ever hungry and greedy for another stick.

A flame flickered. More orange flooded the air.

He knew, but he was not like his uncle. There was no staggering debt riding on his back, no furious wife, no weeping child. The boy wasn’t seeking temporary relief in his life. It was an accident—he didn’t mean to stumble into the popular crowd and he didn’t ask for the smoke to be pressed into his hand.

He had self-control, and it was just one, anyway.

The papery feeling of the cigarette gradually became warm in his hand, and the boy put his lips to its end, tuning out the warnings in his mind and relishing in the scent of orange.

Effete (adjective): worn out; barren

Stepping over dusty pebbles and crunching through dried leaves, the little webbed feet padded clumsily after the two figures. They were getting further by the second—a pair of humans pushing their stroller and enjoying the remaining rays of the setting sun.

The baby goose strained its neck, the half-grown feathers on its small wings flapping about in a desperate effort to propel itself forward. Even though it tripped over itself for every step it took, it ran after them. The lonely gosling ran for warmth, for love, for the wishful image of a family that cared for the youngling sleeping in their stroller.

Beneath the layers of soft gray fluff, its heart knew that the two figures were human—they were neither geese nor his real parents. They would never help chew up the worms that were too big for it to eat, never chase off the other ducks that snapped at its neck in their crystal-blue pond.

It couldn’t keep up.

Footsteps slowing, its small body shivered at the first signs of nighttime wind.