"Let me in Charlie..." "I won't. You can't tell me what to do." I young boy lays on the ground in a fetal position trying to block out the voice in his head. "Surelly, you don't mean that Charlie. I've been there for you when no one else was." He whispered in to his ear. "That deadbeat of a dad of yours skipped town and left you to rot. And your mother hasn't even the time to prepare you anything to eat during the day.  She doesn't even know you are home, Charlie." "Shut up!" Charlie yelled. His alarm clock began to ring. Reluctantly he climbed onto his futon and pretend to sleep for a few moments. Reynald snickering in the back of his mind. He didn't remember when it started. Reynad had been there since he was young. But he wasn't always like this. He was happy before. They played together once. He was imaginative, carefree and joyful. But after everything in his life started to turn up side down. Well Reynald started to grow more and more sinister. Now his voice was so loud he could hardly hear his own thoughts. I'm going to be late, he thought. Charlie made a point to note this was his own mind talking. He didn't know if he was crazy or not. But he was suspecting people would see it that way for sure. Charlie briskly went through his morning routine brushing up his teeth, emptying his bladder and bowels. Making some french toast and pouring some orange juice from the fridge, shutting it with the back of his heel. The stuff your average high school student would do. Just with a commentator on the side. "You know what would look better on you Charlie, a pair of fangs." "Why don't you eat something with a little meat on it. Bacon? Everyone loves a bit of bacon." "Your going to break that fridge door one day and then your Mom'll finally notice you. Is that what you are going for. A good ol' beating. Are you some sort of sadist." "Shuddup, shuddup, shuddup." It was hard to ignore Reynald, but he had to. Acknowledging anything he had to say just made it worst. Running outside he caught the school bus as it was coming in. "Hey Charlie the Chink!" He was greeted by Bosko, the resident bully and his goons. His friends jeering him on. Inwardly, Charlie laughed to himself. Name calling was nothing compared to what Reynald put him through on a daily basis. "Let me rip his teeth out and swallow his tongue, Charlie. You know you want to punch in that fat face of his. Bosko the Bully - how stereotypical can you get." "No Reynald, I won't do that." Charlie whispered to himself fighting down his clenched fist. Charlie was struggling to grab control. Just as he was about to slip into a blind rage a voice perked his ears. "Are you okay, Charlie." It was Joanna the only other Chinese student on the bus. They both somehow ended up in this small town in the middle of america. Famous for their tornadoes and dust storms. "Say yes Charlie." Reynald coaxed. "Yes, um yes I'm okay." Charlie stammered. "Now massage her breasts." Reynald suggested offhandedly. "No!" He shouted loudly against Reynald. Startling some of the nearby students. Embarrassed he quickly added. "I mean no, I have a bit of a cold. And ain't feeling well." "Oh sorry to hear that," Joanna said a bit confused. Not wanting to make it any more awkward than it was. Charlie moved his way to the back. Dropped his bag and looked out the window. This was going to be another long day. He sat alone, he ate alone, he studied alone. And went home on the bus. That was the only time he interacted with the other students in his class. If you could call that interaction. He had no friends. He was even surprised Joanna knew his name. But he then remembered Bosko made sure everyone did. The end of last quarter rang the bell. Everyone was piling out of Mrs. Winston's Intro to Physics class. Charlie didn't like to take the same crowded hallways everyone else did. He knew a short cut that ran out from an emergency door at the bottom of a side staircase. As he pushed opened the door, he was suddenly jostled from behind. His backpack taken away from him. "Well what do we have here." Bosko and two of his friends were rummaging through his bag. Until they found his sketch books. Charlie was a big anime fan and he drew all sorts of characters. "You one of them hint-eh lovers aren't you, you sick fuck." "Here, Anthony." Flicking a lighter over to one of his goons. "Show how lit, his shit is." Bosko picked Charlie up off the ground. "Here Roxanne, hold on to him." He tossed him her way. She grabbed him and got him into a Full Nelson. Roxanne was actually a girl Charlie had a crush on when he was younger. "Yah that's because you have a thing for pain..." Reynald added. Where were you!? Charlie exclaimed vehemently through his thoughts. "I told you, let me take control today. But nooooo you wanted to be a big boy. This is what big boy's get now you have to walk home you stupid idiot." As much as he hated being called a idiot. Reynald did have a point. "Aren't you three going to miss the bus." Charlie pointed out. Bosko realizing this was true quickly came in hard. Not exactly what Charlie was hoping for. He combo'd a left, right body punch straight into an uppercut. Which left Charlie dazed. "Hahaha, perfect Charlie. Now you're bleeding. You realize how much I could've helped right there." Reynald was ecstatic. Roxanne threw him to the ground as his book was burning beside the trash can. Everything in Charlie wanted to reach to save his books. It was everything to him. His Dad was an animator. But everything ached. He was tired of this life. What did it matter, his father left him. Looking up into the sky, droplets began to fall from the clouds above. Starting as drizzle then turning into great big ol' droplets. The sizzling of water dousing his burning book kept him awake. He wanted to sleep forever. He had a bully in his mind, a bully at school and no one to turn to. The world was one big bully. All he had was his sketch books and flip books. But now those were gone too. "So you are just going to lay there like a wuss huh, Charlie." Charlie nodded. Reynald snarled. "Grab your mom's gun shoot everyone in the school. Kill Bosko, Kill Anthony, Kill Roxanne, Kill the Bus Driver who never stopped them from harassing you. Kill everyone." Charlie exhaled slowly. He tried to remember Reynald as he once was. A more innocent ethereal creature. The past few months was like a constant struggle through life. He had to fight down Reynald's lustful comments of girls he barely knew. The boiling anger and hate that was in him that he had to seal. All these things Reynald wanted to unleash... But you know what. Charlie finally realized something. He may feel powerless morning, noon and night. But Reynald. Well Reynald had no power at all. Without answering, Charlie picked up his bag. And trudged through the rain. Made that four hour walk home. Got home to an empty house. Made himself dinner and went to bed. "Tomorrow is going to be a different day." He told himself. "Is that right? Don't kid yourself. Everyday is the same ol' shit." Boasted Reynald. "Not this time... This time, Reynald, I choose how to live my life. And I choose to be happy."


(Trigger warning: Strong language, domestic violence, sexual content) "Do not sleep in my room tonight," he said to Cassie on his way out the door to see Melissa, who he claimed was "just a friend."

Before he downgraded Cassie and his relationship to what he called roommates, his room was her room. He was her first relationship and her first love; she dropped out of college to move in with him. Most nights, he wanted Cassie in his room, and, of course, she obliged. This proves he still loves me. This time will be different . A couple times, she worked up the courage to leave him. One time she moved back in with her parents, tail between her legs, as she explained to them he was cheating on her. Of course, they didn't know that he considered them roommates. How could she explain that? Another time she'd found a cheap apartment over an old farmhouse. She claimed the apartment was haunted, and the ghosts robbed her of sleep. But maybe she was just scared of being alone. She crashed at her friend Zoe's place several times. Zoe was the only person who knew everything about their farce of a relationship. But, she never judged, and she was always there for Cassie. “I have a spare bedroom when you’re ready for something more permanent than my couch," Zoe told Cassie more than once. "I know. Thank you," she'd say, but after a few days, he would beg for her to come back. Then he'd drop those three little words that were a magnet that pulled her back to him. This proves he still loves me. This time will be different . Faced with another night alone, Cassie ordered takeout and rented a movie. She needed to keep her mind off him, but her imagination ran wild with what he and Melissa actually did on their nights out. When she could no longer keep her eyes open, she went to her room, knowing it would be used against her if he thought she'd fallen asleep on the couch waiting up for him. Since she spent most nights in his room, her room felt more like a storage room than a bedroom. Behind her closed eyes, all she could see was him. The angry words he threw at her, his arrogant smile that said he knew she would do whatever he told her. Her mind would also flashback to their first few months together. Holding hands at the movie theater, laughing over dinner, cuddling on the couch, watching movies, making love all night. She knew she should stand up to him but thinking about it made her skin crawl with fear she would go too far, say the wrong thing, and lose him forever. She only wanted to show him the error of his ways, for him to realize she mattered, for them to be the couple they were in the beginning. Sooner or later, crying exhausted her enough to fall asleep. He shook her awake. “Get up. Come to my room.” She looked at her clock: 1:05 a.m. She sat up, rubbing her puffy eyes. He never wanted her after he went out with another girl even if she was just a friend. Has he realized I am the one he loves? Will this prove that he loves me? Will this time be different? He looked back at her from the doorway. "Brush your teeth first. I can smell your stank breath from here." Groggily, she put her hand over her mouth and breathed out, trying to catch a whiff as she padded to the bathroom. She gargled with mouthwash and brushed her teeth. She looked in the mirror at her mousy brown hair, her plump face, her swollen eyes. She tried to fluff her hair and sprayed the perfume he loved. “Hurry up,” he yelled from his bedroom. “I gotta work in the morning.” She found him in the bedroom, naked, spread eagle on the bed. He grinned at her, showing off that split between his teeth she thought was so adorable when they met. His green eyes sparkled. He’s happy to see me. He’s happy to be here with me ! This proves he still loves me. This time will be different . She smiled back as she removed her nightshirt and panties, trying to cover up the chubby parts he liked to point out, not daring to turn out the lights. He was a "lights on kinda guy" he always told her. “Don’t cover up,” he said. “I want to see you.” She closed her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth. When he pulled away, she took the moment to catch her breath. Her eyes flew open wide to see him staring down at her with the arrogant smile he wore so well. This was a brand-new hell. She never dreamed he could hurt her with a smell. He rubbed his fingers along his goatee and tried to push them in her mouth. She turned away in disgust as tears welled up. “Oh c'mon, Cas. I know you like it. Don’t you want to taste her like I did? I took care of her, now I need you to take care of me. C’mon baby, I love you, show me you love me.” She faced him and let him kiss her again. When he pulled her on top of him, she didn’t hesitate. After all, he said the magic words. Ten minutes later, he snored beside her, and she went to wash away the taste of his betrayal. She paused at the door of the bathroom, her head swinging from her room to his with indecision. Different but same, loneliness and sadness beckoned from both rooms. She climbed under the covers and cuddled up to his warm body. "Get off," he said, scrunching his body to push her away. “Sorry,” she whispered as she moved to the other side of the bed. “Just get out. I gotta get up early, and I don't need your snoring keeping me up all night." *** At the beginning of their relationship, this was a running joke. “You’re snoring is going to keep me up all night,” he’d tell her as he stroked her hair. She knew it was cliché, but that look from him made her feel like she had to be the luckiest woman in the world. "That's my plan," she'd say with a mischievous smile. So they'd make love all night, each teasing the other that they might as well since the snoring would keep them awake anyway. *** She smiled and stroked his back. “Well, if my snoring will keep you awake, why don’t we go for round two?” "I'm serious, Cassie. Get out." She sat up and looked at him. Her sadness turned into desperation and anger. "Why are you so mean to me?" “Not this again,” he said with a sigh. “Not this again? Not fucking this again? What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means the same damn thing it means all the time. Just because we screw once in a while doesn’t change that. I. DON’T. WANT. YOU. You’re fat, you’re ugly, you smell awful. That horrible perfume just makes it worse. How many times do I have to tell you that? Now get out.” “You told me you loved this perfume. You—” “I lied!” He yelled loud enough to make her jump. She threw back the covers and stomped out of his room, slamming the door shut. She went to her room, slammed her own door, then opened it and slammed it one more time, trying to slam the anger out. Anger emboldened her to leave; the red blocked out everything else. She would wait until he left for work to escape. For good this time. This time will be different. She was still awake when she heard him get up for work, and finally, the apartment door opened and shut. After he left, she climbed into his bed, inhaling his smell as she drifted off to sleep trying to hold onto one last good memory of him. He came home early as she took one last look around. It was rare for him to come home for lunch. Her heart stopped, but she steeled herself. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Leaving again? Don’t think I'll allow you to come back again.” She looked up at him, appalled at how arrogant he could be. She tossed her bag over her shoulder and reached for the doorknob, but then she hesitated. "Already changing your mind?" he asked. "That's fine. Why don't you go pick us up something to eat? Hurry up, I don’t have a long lunch." She turned and looked at him, cursing her tears for betraying her sadness. She had a note in her pocket she'd planned to leave for him, but she worked up the courage to tell him the words she mulled over all morning. She took a deep breath. “I can’t love you enough for both of us, and I can’t love me for you. But I can love myself enough to say goodbye. This time will be different.” “Oh, that's a good one. Best you have had in a---" She didn't hear the rest as she shut the door softly behind her.

We never forget our first love, and with Cassie, it was no different. She spent many years figuring out who she was and finding the confidence and self-worth that he attempted to rob from her. She sat at her desk, staring at his friend request on social media. She could hear him in her head, “You’re fat, you’re ugly, and you smell bad.” She remembered like it was yesterday: how she wanted to sink into the floor, how she cried herself to sleep, how he made her hate who she was even while she prayed that he would love her like she loved him. Her finger hovered over the delete button. He couldn’t hurt her anymore, but she still didn’t understand. Friends told her he was a narcissist. Her therapist told her that he verbally abused her. Intellectually, she understood, but closure and acceptance always felt just out of her grasp. She clicked accept. Almost immediately, her phone vibrated, signaling a private message from the social media app.                “Long time no talk. How ya been?” She stared at the message for a long time. Her hands shook as she looked through his photos and posts. She hadn't seen him in at least 15 years, yet there he was, showing off that same smile, the same split peeking out between his teeth, and those green eyes. Instead of an aging, miserable, middle-aged man, the pictures showed a happy, perfect family.

No one else could possibly put up with how mean he was. Or was he only mean to me?

Get a grip! He has no control over me. This time will be different. She responded to him: “Doing great. You?" They chatted for a few minutes. She emphasized how happy she was, and he told her about his wife, his children, his job, but one question plagued her mind. “Why were you so mean to me?” Ellipses showed, then stopped, then showed up again as she waited for his answer. Finally, several minutes later, his response came on the screen.                “Because I could.” She stared at his message, and she thought of all the wonderful memories she made after she left him. She smiled as she deleted, blocked, and unfriended him. Her life wasn’t always easy nor perfect, and while, on some level, she always knew, it finally clicked into place at that moment. This time was different. He no longer mattered. She was the one that mattered, and she'd never let anyone take that away from her again. Why? Because she could.


"I'm done!" I breathed out exasperatedly. This resolution thing is stupid. It's stupid. No one ever sticks to them anyways. I sucked my teeth. In a few hours there is going to be a big party. "Huhhh!" my hands went my eyes. Phooo~ooooo. My hands were cold to the touch like always. Winter... it does that. The sound of the neighborhood kids altering each other that a car was coming woke me up. They always scream and shout. With snow on the floor they're probably having a snowball fight. My eyes drifted to the window. Out in the front yard my parents and annoying older brothers were unpacking the minivan. "I bet my mom's resolution is to try and get her triplets to visit home more often." Something that can be fixed with just a simple conversation. I groaned boredly. Also for my dad to take her out more. Um... my dad? Less hours at work and for his daughter to get out more. Socializing is boring. My hand passed over the smooth carvings that outlined my desk slowly. The boys... well. They're idiots. I shrugged at that. Big bullies with a bad habit of making it look like they are saints. Which just pisses me off. Big time. They think they have it all. Probably want to ruin my life as much as they can and don't forget the alcohol. I grumped my way over to my bed. No new year's resolution for me. "Simone!" Ugh. No. I curled up in my bed when I heard my mom calling me. I am not going to the party. Might as well just stay up stairs. "Yo, shrimp!" My eyes screamed murder as I stared at my red painted wall. "Your boyfriend is downstairs." an imp grunted. Sure, and he's not getting a sexually transmitted disease this year. I smacked my pillow as I made myself comfy. "I'll send him up." Blah blah blah. I shut my eyes tightly as I silently mocked him. Stupid imp. Talking about "boyfriend". I have one friend and shes away for the holidays. Other than that no one… "Simone? If she's asleep…" "Nope. She's up. Just going through her end of the year's crisis. Never really understood why, but she's all yours. What a lucky guy." The sarcasm made me sit up. "I will slit your pathetic little…" Jordan? What the fluff. My eyes went to the fluffy unicorn pillow I was holding. Shit. The look on my face spelt out "caught". "Save it for Pepe Lopez." Taren… I think, snorted before turning. No, don't go. Big bro, save me! I got up quickly. "Cute pjs." Jordan smiled and my cheeks lit up. What's happening? "May I come in?" he lifted one of his thick eyebrows. Uh huh. "N.no?" my hands went behind my back shyly. Why are you here? Please leave. "No? As in a question?" Jordan chuckled smoothly. He looked around and then stopped at my wall of books. "As in why are you here?" I snapped at him this time. Jordan is no longer welcome anywhere around me. "I know you're mad at me, but let me explain." the way his downward turned eyes pleaded made me weak in the knees. "Nope. You… go away." I shook my head. Still hiding my hands as I tried to act calm. My tummy feels jittery and I can't breathe right now. "I've never been chased away before." he looked down and then I at the ceiling before sighing out. "Well, now you know that it's possible. Get lost." I huffed, my feet taking me to my desk. Now he thinks I wanna be friends. I don't. "Please, just listen." a plea left mister macho. Why should I? I thought as I packed up my books. All I did was ask him if he and Sarah were dating. That's all. He then proceeded to flip out and then just stop talking to me. All because a simple question. A soft sigh left my lips as I looked at him. Without a shadow of a doubt my eyes were glossed over. "I got mad cause you asked about Sarah. The girl you had to ask about was yourself. Then you started cursing me for not answering you. When in fact I said no Simone. I do not like her." Jordan marched over to me. He was serious and ready to plead his case. Well, I don't care. You ignored me. Who does that? "Si." I shook my head. "Si… come on. Look at me." he called as his hands went to my cheeks. Uh uh. I don't want to. My eyes shut. I'm scared. What if he notices? "Remember when we first met?" Nope. Doesn't ring a bell. "You were wearing a really cute polka dot dress." he chuckled as he remembered full story. It got ruined thanks to him. Last year at a party I was forced to go to I met this really cool guy. We talked, we laughed and even exchanged numbers. Then Jordan came along with ice cream and ruined the moment. "Jor... hah .." I couldn't finish. My laughter got the better of me. He blamed me for ruining his ice cream and demanded that I get him another. That's when I took the cone and scooped up the fallen strawberry scoop and rubbed it in his unsuspecting face. Ever since then, he's been like a fly, but I… I really really like him. My smile drifted a bit. "You still haven't gotten the stain out. Who knew strawberry stained that badly?" Jordan was still laughing. The goof ball. I reached up and placed my hand on his cheek. He immediately stopped laughing and looked down. His eyes melted into pools as he stared. What is this feeling? It's weird, but I like it. I've been feeling fuzzy when he's around lately. "Si, I like you." he smiled. Oof ..the glow. I hid my face. Why is he such an amazing smiler? Jordan never disappoints. "I...l.like…" I whispered the "you" into his chest. The jitters ate away at my chest. This is hard. "I know. Simone. It's always been you. Even after you ruined me ice cream." he muttered upsetly. Let it go. "It was an ice cream. What's more important. Your girlfriend, or a cone that you lost?" I pulled away. Anger on my circular face. Unbelievably stupid this one. "Girlfriend? Hmmm . My new year looks bright. I'm already getting the girl of my dreams." a smirk lit up his voice. Girlfriend? I covered my mouth when I realized what I had said. "Jor, I didn't mean it!" I blurted out, embarrassed. Why did I say that? He… he didn't even say that we were dating. "Girl, you're mine." I was pulled flushed against him. My eyes looked up. Warm. With a blush I looked back at my desk. I guess I really don't need to make any silly resolution. Like I said. Conversation. I pushed my glasses up with a victorious smile. It feels good to be right. "I know that smile. Who's going to need the pain killer and a shot of whiskey?" Jordan asked. My bubble popped. "No one. Just shut up." my crabby remark didn't surprise him, nor sway him away. Actually he came down and stared into my eyes. Our breaths mingled before we kissed. This.. this right here is what I've been waiting for all year. I held him close as he smiled. "The shrimp's done it! New year's resolution one and…" "Get out!" I screeched after pulling away from Jordan. He laughed into his hand. I didn't.. lairs! "Someone's got a boyfriend!" "Oohh! I'm telling dad." Wait.. no! I tried to stop them, but Taryn closed my door quickly. "Dad! She's got a boyfriend!" I heard them scream in unison. Oh brothers! "Don't be mad. They're guys and that's what we do. Especially when a cute girl is involved. Also, on a quick note. Is your dad cool with you dating?" Jordan asked. I nodded. I think. I don't know. "Outside time." he clapped as he took me outside. My dad was already in the hall. "You break my daughter's heart and I'll let the triplets…" "I can deal with my own heart breaks, daddy." I mumbled. The triplets started to poke fun at my shyness. "Leave my baby alone. You boys better go downstairs and unpack the car. Come on." mom to the rescue! They got out of there quickly. My mom held up her thumbs then hurried away. "Talk about girl power. To be honest, I'm terrified of you and your mom." I was squished in a hug. Butterflies! I hugged back. "I like you a lot, Jordan." I whispered. I do. "I know. I can't wait to start the new year as your goof ball boyfriend." he looked down and I nodded. Yep. Sounds like a plan. My eyes glistened The best plan ever.


Ever since I could hold my father’s old digital camera in both hands, I’d been fascinated by taking pictures. Capturing life in a single moment. That first camera barely worked - it was more than a few years old by the time he gave it to me after months of me disappearing with it into the garden for hours on end. I remember him saying ‘someone might as well use it’, and with that my life took a very straightforward path. After finishing school, I set up my own photography business. I knew university would never be for me, as the idea of sitting in a lecture hall for four years bored me almost to tears. As soon as I could afford to, I paid a friend to set up a website for me - Luke Lane Photography - and I got to work as soon as I could, though the jobs were slow at first. My first wedding, a job I had taken on with some reluctance but came with a modest paycheck, was for an old school friend. He’d met his soon-to-be-wife at college and after they both dropped out, moved back to our hometown in deep Sussex. The day had gone smoothly, and once I’d published a selection of the best shots to my website I started getting more and more requests coming through the ‘Make a Request’ form for ‘the guy who took those photos at George’s wedding’. Who knew my big break would have been a wedding for someone who used to eat insects for fun at school. Eventually I’d set myself up with a regular gig, and most weekends I bundled my equipment into my aging Honda and drove - occasionally for a few hours at a time - to the next venue. There weren’t many professional photographers in the area, and my rates were reasonable enough that I enjoyed moderate success, particularly in the summer. However winter was usually a different story - not many people want to get married in the cold, so I was usually running lean in those months while I scraped enough together for rent. This year was shaping up to be particularly demanding - my car, which had run fine through the years despite the odds against it, had finally breathed its last on the side of the road last week. Replacing it - and it as my sole source of transportation it definitely needed replacing - had left a more-than-significant hole in my finances that I desperately needed to fill if I wanted to have somewhere to live. It was then, as I was sitting hunched over the plastic-topped table I used as a desk scouring through my bank account desperately trying to find something, anything I could use to pay rent, that a job request came through. The night was late - really more like morning, that's how long I had been on my laptop at that point, when the email notification pinged up at the bottom corner of my screen. I let it disappear at first, doubtful that a job request sent in the dead of night could really be genuine, but curiosity got the better of me and after a few moments I clicked into my inbox to read it. The email subject was ‘Request for the services of Mr. Lane’. The formality of the title struck me as unusual compared to the emails I usually received - some of them were barely legible. ‘Dear Mr. Lane,’ the email began. ‘My name is D. Middleton, and I am inquiring in regards to your photography services for the wedding of my daughter and her husband.’ The rest of the email covered the details of the job - location, time, and so on - all in the same curiously formal tone. I skim read up to the end, where I noticed something that stood out - a confidentiality clause. For most jobs, it was standard practice not to post anything online before the lucky couple had signed off on the edits, but a full-on confidentiality agreement asking me not to tell anyone I’d even been at the wedding was almost unheard of, particularly as after which was a much, much higher amount of money than I usually asked for. Enough that my housing worries would be taken care of, at least until the spring came around. God, I hoped this wasn’t a joke. Immediately I tapped out a response and sent it through, confirming the fee and request were correct, and waited in hope of a reply, my face so close to the screen at this point I would have smacked into it with a gentle push. I was rewarded a few minutes later with another email, reiterating D. Middleton was indeed very serious and asking if I could be available in two days. Usually a booking this close to the ceremony would set off alarm bells in my head - leaving the photographer this late was generally a sign that someone else had dropped out - but when the contents of your fridge consist of a few slices of vegan cheese and a suspect salad from the supermarket’s reduced section, alarm bells can be ignored to a certain extent. After sending over a request for the deposit and my bank details, I went to bed, though sleep eluded me and I stared at the ceiling for a few hours before I eventually drifted off.

A few days later, I pulled up to the farmhouse mid-morning. The sky was overcast and the chill of autumn had started to seep in. Stepping out of the car, it was deathly quiet and I couldn’t see any signs of life. Either this was objectively the worst wedding in the universe or I was the only one here. I pulled up the email on my phone - everything matched with the details I’d written down which eliminated the possibility I had misread the address or time.

I shrugged to myself, figuring I’d been given an earlier time to take some shots of the couple before the guests arrived, and went around to the boot of my car to fetch my equipment. As I began delicately placing the heavy bags down onto the graveled drive, the front door of the house opened, and out stepped a man, small in stature and clearly middle-aged, his hair peppered with grays. He was dressed in a navy three-piece suit, with a matching tie and floral waistcoat. ‘My Lane I presume?’ he came towards me, hand outstretched. ‘That’s me,’ I responded, shaking his hand. It was curiously cold. ‘Are you Mr. Middleton?’ He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘Please, call me David. Thanks so much for coming on short notice. Care to come inside?’ He gestured towards the open door to the house, and shouldering my camera bags, I made for the entrance. ‘Are you expecting the guests a bit later?’ I asked over my shoulder, as I gingerly navigated the narrow doorway, ducking my head to avoid the low frame. David followed, and shut the door behind us. The corridor was cramped so he was forced to awkwardly side-shuffle past the bulky bags to get through. ‘Ah no other guests today, today is family only,’ he smiled again, tight-lipped, and gestured to me to follow him down the hall and through a door. We emerged into the kitchen, which was bare and sterile, cold light filtering through the windows. The only furniture was a hard worn wooden table, at which a woman sat, also dressed for a wedding in clothing that was as stark and drab as the room around her. David crossed over to the table and gave her shoulder a brief squeeze as he took the chair next to her, so I could only assume she was his wife, and indicated I should sit down in the empty chair opposite them. She didn’t look at me as I sat, content to remain gazing at the table as though I wasn’t there. There was a moment of tense silence, and David cleared his throat. ‘So, Mr Lane,’ he began haltingly, as though he wasn’t sure how to begin. ‘How much do you know about the Victorians?’ An odd question for a wedding photographer. I struggled to recall from the depths of my memory History lessons of pictures of scowling men in top hats and steam engines. ‘Er, only what I remember from school, so not much,’ I answered, confused where this could be going. ‘Is that related to today?’ David nodded sadly, no longer quite meeting my eye. ‘There’s something we need to confess, Mr Lane. I wasn’t sure how to put this into writing, but the photos we need you to take today are.. somewhat unusual.’

‘I’ve done themed weddings before, if that’s what you mean.’ I was starting to feel out of my depth here - something was definitely wrong here. David shook his head, reaching a hand to take a hold of his wife’s. She continued to stare into nothing, not reacting to his touch. ‘It’s a bit more than just a ‘theme’, I’m afraid,’ he smiled at me apologetically. ‘How do I put this? In the Victorian era, many families struggled to make ends meet and luxuries were often out of their reach except for special occasions. Family photographs were certainly one of those luxuries.’ He glanced over my shoulder and I turned my head to see a closed door behind me. I couldn’t place it but there was something emanating from behind the door, a cold feeling that made me shiver. ‘If this is to do with the rates..’ ‘Oh no, you’ll be paid what we promised,’ David held up his hand reassuringly. ‘It’s not that we can’t afford to pay you, but please let me continue.’ I was very lost at this point. Was this whole job some kind of prank? ‘When a family at that time wanted a portrait, it was a special moment, one that often they could only afford once in a generation. As such they were usually reserved for the birth of a child, or the death of a loved one, occasionally both. Something to keep them close after they passed,’ he said.

‘I’m not sure I follow you..’ I was feeling more and more uneasy with each passing moment. Would the money really be worth whatever this was? ‘As I said in my message, today is my daughter and her husband’s wedding day. Or, more accurately, it was supposed to be their wedding day,’ David looked at me meaningfully.. ‘They..’ he paused here, his eyes starting to tear, and his next words came out in a choke. ‘They died last week in a car accident.’ ‘They.. died?’ I was certain I had misheard him. ‘But I’m here to.. take photos of their wedding?’ David nodded silently. ‘They’re in the next room,’ Mrs Middleton spoke for the first time. Her voice was tiny, quiet and hoarse, like she’d been crying for hours. ‘They died and they’re behind that door, waiting for us.’ She pried her hand from her husband’s, and for the first time her eyes met mine. ‘What David is asking for.. what we’re asking for.. is one last memory with them before we say goodbye.’ With that, what they were asking me to do finally clicked in my mind. I stood up immediately, knocking over my chair with a bang that echoed around the room. ‘You can’t be serious. You’re both insane.’ They said nothing, simply stared up at me. I made to pick up my bags, intent on getting out of there as quickly as possible, but David rose and grabbed my arm before I could move away. ‘Please! We’re not going to hurt you, I promise,’ he pleaded with me. ‘We’re just parents wanting this final moment with our daughter while we still can. I know it’s an unorthodox request but I promise we’ll pay you everything we agreed.’ He let go of my arm, looking at me like I was a cornered animal ready to bolt. ‘Unorthodox? Try illegal,’ I responded. ‘I should call the police.’ I dug into my pocket, pulling out my phone. ‘Wait! Please,’ said David. ‘I.. I own the funeral home their.. bodies.. were delivered to.’ He said the word ‘bodies’ like it caused him physical pain. ‘I’m responsible for them until the funeral. I promise you,’ he looked at my pleadingly. ‘We wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t the only way.’ ‘The only way?! You stole your daughter’s corpse and you’ve what, posed it as though it’s her wedding day? I’m leaving.’ At this point Mrs Middleton broke into tears, putting her hands to her face and her shoulders rocked up and down as her husband returned to his seat, putting his arm around her. I turned away from the couple, scooping up my bags and heading towards the door back out into the hallway. ‘Please, stop for a moment,’ I heard David’s desperate voice behind me. ‘We’ll pay you double the agreed fee for this.’ At this, and against my better judgment, I paused. Every voice in my mind told me to go, to run before this entire situation took a turn for the worse, but double an already-outrageous sum of money would set me up for months and months. The concept of no more weddings, at least for a while, was hardly stirring motivation but I’d be lying if I said at that moment the image of my rundown, leaking flat didn’t come into mind. I could afford a new suite of equipment, a real darkroom, the kick to my career I desperately needed.. I’ve never been an overly ambitious person, but selfish would be an appropriate term. David, seeing my hesitation, rose for a second time and came over to me. ‘Double, I promise. I’ll even pay you right now if you like,’ he nodded at me, keen to reassure that he was completely sincere. ‘Before you make a decision, please, just come see them. Joyce did an outstanding job, I promise. They look like they’re sleeping, that’s it,’ his voice was gentle, as though he was talking to a crying child.

I didn’t move, torn between the two sides of my moral compass - I should leave, leave right now , report them both and never look back. How did I even know any of this story was even true? On the other hand though.. I desperately needed that money and if I did quick work, I could be out of there in less than half an hour. It’s not like there would be many poses they could do as corpses, and if they really looked like they were sleeping, maybe I could pretend, for a little while at least. I could still feel that emanating presence coming from the door though, like someone was waiting just behind it. David,, as though my silence was taken as agreement, left me and crossed to the door leaving the chair I’d toppled where it lay. His wife, whom I assumed was the Joyce he referred to, had stopped crying by now, raising her head out of her hands to look at me again with those eyes - eyes I realised now were those of a mother in mourning. ‘Please,’ she mouthed at me wordlessly. I slowly, reluctantly, placed my bags back onto the floor. David pushed open the door with one hand, with the other waving me over. ‘Just a look, and if you still say ‘no’ then we’ll forget this ever happened, and I’ll give you the money we agreed. I’m a man of my word.’ Slowly, I moved towards him, feeling like I was trapped in a dream, my legs moving almost of their own accord, and when I finally reached the doorway after what felt like hours, I looked inside the room. – I took the job in the end. Of course I did. Later that night, sitting at home over my laptop with a strong drink, I edited the photos exactly as I would have done for any other wedding. Usually I’d take a few days for this, pouring over the details to make sure they were just so, but I wanted today to be over as soon as possible. With the final files sent, I pushed the laptop away, and took a long draught from my glass. The liquid trickled down my throat, warm and gentle with the promise of memories dulled. My last look at Joyce’s face in the rearview mirror as I drove away afterwards. She was smiling, the first time she’d done so all day., and in a way it chilled me more than anything else I’d seen in that morning.. I checked my phone again, something I’d been doing obsessively since I reached home. The money was all there, just as they promised, but today had been enough for me. Making plans could wait until the morning, and with this thought, I drained my glass and lurched from the room.

As I moved out of the kitchen towards my bedroom something made me pause, and I turned back, grabbing my laptop and taking it with me. Once I was firmly ensconced in the blankets, I opened it again, not quite sure what I was expecting, and went to my inbox. At the top, an unread email. Like the Middleton’s, it had been sent late, far later than any normal person would be researching wedding photographers. I opened it, and read the first line. Dear Mr Lane, I was recommended to you by a close friend of mine, Mr. David Middleton.. Ever since I could hold my father’s old digital camera in both hands, I’d been fascinated by taking pictures. Capturing life in a single moment - or if not life, death.


The lights turned off, leaving the entire seventeenth floor of the office complex in darkness, except for the computers with their screensavers showing exotic locations. Swearing loudly, Maggie staggered out of her chair, it’s wheels squeaking on the scratched lino, and flicked on one of the desk lamps. It’s yellow light shone over her desk, illuminating the pile of papers she’d neatly placed after completion, and casting shadows across the surrounding cubicles. Shivering, Maggie wrapped her coat around more tightly. “Why the hell is it so cold in here?” she muttered to herself, as she gently blew on her fingertips. “ They must turn the heating off, or something.” Casually, she checked her mobile. No missed calls. No texts. Full signal. Had no one even noticed she hadn’t gone home? Maybe they were all stranded as well? Yes, that’d be the answer, she thought. She glanced at the time. Midnight. “Well, time for a snack,” she said loudly, making herself jump. Sadly, she looked around at all the empty desks. It felt weird to be the only person there. The rest of them must have made it home, she thought. Thick snow fell past the window in clumps, the glass frosted. Sighing, Maggie looked down at the street, far below. She couldn’t see any lights from the traffic. The office buildings around her were all dark. “I could be the last person alive,” she whispered to herself. A shiver travelled down her spine. The thought was too creepy. The vending machine was still fully stocked with calorie laden sweet treats. She spent some time deciding between two chocolate bars before choosing both. “How often am I stuck in a blizzard?” she said aloud, as she moved back to her desk, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, and propped both feet up on her desk. Munching on one bar, a trickle of melted chocolate running unnoticed down her chin, she didn’t notice at first, the far door click open until a beam of light shone brightly onto the nearest cubicle. “Hello?” Maggie called out, sitting up hastily and wiping her hand across her face. “Is there anybody there?” Throwing the empty wrappers into a bin, Maggie slowly walked towards the door, weaving her way between the scattered desks, as she sipped the last of her drink. “Hello?” she asked again as she reached the door. Mr Daniels. Vice President, was etched in fine writing across the front. “Mr Daniels?” Maggie whispered as she gently pushed the door open further and poked her head around. There was nobody there. The office was empty, ready for the next day’s work with a file placed in the center of the desk, the far wall lined with an old fashioned bookcase crammed with dusty books. Maggie shook her head, “I must be going mad.” Reaching out to switch off the lamp, her gaze wandered to the title sprawled across the file. Top secret. Her fingers hesitated for a second. What if some one came in and saw her? She could be fired, or killed, if it really was top secret! Don’t be stupid, she reminded herself, you’re the only one here. Quickly, she flicked it open, her eyes horrified at what she read. “Oh no, this can’t be for real,” she whispered. This is why no one is allowed in here, she thought, so no one can find out. The main lights in the offices flickered on. Maggie froze as she heard a man talking and laughing. Mr Daniels. What was he doing here? Closing the file, she looked round for a hiding spot, her empty cup left on the desk. That was the problem with a neat and tidy office, there was nowhere to hide. Mr Daniels was moving closer, his mobile clutched to his ear. Maggie could feel the sweat beading on her forehead. She raced to the book shelves. Maybe he’d believe she was just tidying? she thought. She pulled out a random book. The wall behind the shelving clicked and groaned, before part of it slid to one side revealing a wooden door. Maggie felt her lower jaw drop. “What is this place?” she whispered. Mr Daniels reached the door to his office, she could see his shadow on the floor. She had no choice. Throwing herself into the space behind the shelves, the door slammed behind her. Maggie held her breath in the darkness, her eyes scrunched tight as she imagined Mr Daniels looking around his office with his eyes narrowed into slits, and his hands on his hips. The wooden door groaned and clicked and slid to one side. Maggie blinked in the light as she stared at Mr Daniels. “Maggie?” he asked in surprise. “What are you doing in here?” “Would you believe me if I said I was tidying?” He frowned as he shook his head, “Well, I’ll admit, this could have been worse. Thought you were a spy.” He moved towards his desk, giving Maggie space to move away from behind the shelving. “You aren’t a spy, I take it?” he asked. “Me? As if!” “And what have you seen?” “Nothing.” The answer was too quick, even Maggie realized it as she said it. Mr Daniels glanced down at his desk where her cup still sat, her lipstick against the rim, next to the top secret file. ‘Really? You’ve seen nothing?” His voice was soft and quiet. Maggie felt the shiver run down her spine again. Slowly, Mr Daniels strolled around his desk and shut the door. “You know, there’s a camera in here, don’t you?” he asked, quietly. Maggie felt her stomach drop. Of course there would be a camera. “Oh alright, I had a quick look through the file,” she said, holding her hands against her thighs to stop them shaking. “And I found your secret hiding spot. But that’s it, I swear.” Mr Daniels shrugged,” It’s enough.” “What are you going to do? Fire me?” Mr Daniels shook his head. “You’re not going to kill me, are you?” Maggie whispered, nervously licking her lips. “Well actually, I was looking for an assistant,” Mr Daniels said, smiling.


They live among us without being noticed. They blend with mortals as if they are not from different worlds. We talk and laugh with them. We smile at them as friends do. And some even work for them, like I do. Unfortunately . Today is my first online session with the son of a wealthy single parent—at least that’s how I knew it when I accidentally applied as a tutor. And by accidentally, I mean I walked on a street one day, then a turbulent rainbow tornado stopped in front of me just to leave not havoc but a piece of paper which said, “ Congratulations! You have been chosen. Don’t even try to disregard this invite or you’ll suffer the worst! ” Yes, that tornado passed the streets without being seen by anyone there—except me. Curse this ESP! Because of this, I am not given the chance to live a normal human life. Seeing dead people every single time of your life is something you’ll hate your existence for. Being able to talk to fairies and gnomes is fun, but it makes me a weirdo amidst the bunch of an ordinary crowd. And now, being a tutor for the Ice Queen’s son is a little bit too much. Random thoughts ransacked my head as I wait for him on Zoom. Is he as cold as an ice cube? Does he look like an iceberg? Does he melt when he gets mad? Will he freeze me forever if he doesn’t like me? He’s the Ice Queen’s son, after all, things could happen. “Psst! Lally.” A small voice pulls me out of my head. “Lally, let’s play.” It’s Jester’s tiny yet manly voice calling. He’s a gnome from our garden who I have played with since I was a child. His pointed ears flap as he jumps in front of me. His skin glistens under the subtle glint of light coming from the window. “I can’t. I have work to do.” “You work?” Then, he bursts with laughter. “Seriously? A human employed a creep like you?” He rolls his slender six inches long body on my keyboard. Various letter combinations are printed on the open Microsoft Office Word on screen as he stomps and hits the keys. I pout and let him have his good laugh. I wouldn’t dare see his cute face turn red and hideous when he’s mad. He hates being answered back. Fangs protrude out of his pearl white teeth when he gets mad. He curses, and I get itchy red spots for several days for that. Those spots only disappear when he’s no longer angry. “Jest, please. I’m serious. I can endure your tantrums, but I will surely freeze to death if I mess up today.” “Uhm, okay.” He stopped teasing me and sits on my lap. “Who do you work for?” “The Ice Queen.” He chokes, almost about to laugh again, but stops. He knows I’m not kidding. “Can I stay here? Well, just in case you need help.” “Sure. Just don’t mess around.” Jester and I wait for my student with varied emotions. Jester seems to look forward to seeing a new face; I am a little shaky, butterflies in my stomach fly erratically. Connecting… I freeze when I see the word. I took the deepest breath I could take to calm myself. “Oh, it’s you! I can’t believe it’s really you!” Stunned by his exuberance, I look at him with do you know me in my head. “Of course, I do! I requested you to be my personal tutor.” “You know me?” I pointed to myself, “how?” “I have been stalking—I mean following—you since the first time I saw by the bridge.” “Bridge? What bridge? When?” “I will never forget that day.” *** I was having my regular walk in the park near an old bridge by the river. I was a fish out of the water. I look human, but I know that I’m not. My mother is the Ice Queen after all. She was not literally the queen from Narnia, but she was a witch. She was so mad at me for leaving our house without her knowing it, so she made it rain cats and dogs with roaring thunder and lightning flashing angrily—just how my mom growled when she was mad. I knew I had to go home as fast as I could, but a human stopped me from doing so. My eyes were glued on her. She was just standing by the bridge but she caused my heart to falter that I almost stopped breathing. “Do you plan to go home or not?” My mom appeared from nowhere. She was a beautiful disaster. Her icy blue eyes turned fiery red as she gave me a threatening look. “Mom, she poked my heart.” I pointed at the girl amidst the somber sea of lost souls. “I haven’t felt this in my 125 years of existence. Can I have her?” “Silly boy. You can’t just own a person only because you want to. In the world of humans, they have this thing called love that can make you own someone.” “Is this love I’m feeling? Because I want her to be mine.” “My son, such emotion is dangerous. I don’t want you to suffer what I have experienced.” “I want to give it a try. Please, mom.” “Be grateful you’re my son.” “They call you Ice Queen for a reason, but your heart always melts for me.” “Only for you. Okay, I’ll do my best to make her yours. And since we only fall in love once in a lifetime, I'll give this to you.” *** “Uh, hello? Did you hear me? I was asking how did you know me.” “S- sorry. I just realized how beautiful you are. I was only able to see you from afar.” Jester makes himself known. He butts in our conversation. “Excuse me? Stop staring at Lally, you might melt her.” He crosses his arms on his chest while stomping on the computer desk. “Oww, you have a pet. How cute.” “I’m not her pet! I’m her friend.” He replied grumpily. “Shhh… Jester. I told you not to meddle, right?” I stared at my student’s blue eyes, but instead of feeling cold by his gaze, it feels like a warm embrace. His smile melts my bones. “Lally.” Jester tugs my shirt. “You’re spacing out. You’re blushing. Your heart is in your eyes.” “W-what? Stop messing with me.” I felt my cheeks burn. “I’m sorry. By the way, I forgot to ask your name.” “I’m Genesis.” “Hi, Gen. Okay, so, what do you want to learn?” “I want to learn how to be more human. I want to learn more about the human emotion called love.” Cat got my tongue. Someone wants to be tutored about love. I haven’t even had an experience of it. I’m doomed. “I’m sorry, Gen. But I don’t think I’m the right person to teach you that. Love is not really something that is taught. It is an involuntary feeling. You just know it when you feel it.” Blood escapes his face and the light of excitement leaves his eyes. Needles prick my heart. My mood turns from okay to blue. Why am I feeling this? “Don’t be sad that you can’t teach me. Please don’t be gloomy. I can feel you from here.” I am lost for words for what he says. I look away not to see his somber face, but my heart feels empty without a glimpse of him. What’s wrong with me? “How dare you saddened my son!” A shrill voice reverberates in my room. I almost leap from my seat. There is the Ice Queen at the corner, and she’s striding towards me. The floor is now covered with shredded ice. The temperature drops to zero. I tug my hands in my pocket. I am only wearing shorts and a short-sleeved blouse. Jester hides behind me as a prickling breeze fills the atmosphere. Who would’ve thought of having winter inside a room? “S-sorry, ma’am.” My chin trembled as I speak. I clasp my knees to my chest for warmth. “I don’t want to disappoint your son even more if I let him hope he’ll learn love from me—” I breathe the icy air and choke, “—because I can’t fake love.” “Then, give it a try!” The room’s temperature drops even more. Every corner of my room starts to freeze. Icebergs sprout from the floor. Snow crystals pour. My computer has turned to ice. I can no longer feel my limbs. My lungs tighten as I keep on breathing cold air. I can feel the icy particles blocking my air passage. So, this is what they call slow, tormenting death . The tears clouding my eyes also start to harden. I can only utter a sorry to Jester in my head. As I’m starting to accept my cold death, a beautiful man appeared—warming the place. “Mom, please stop.” His eyes are somber. “You told me you can’t force love.” With those words, the Ice Queen’s facial features soften. She looks at me with an apologetic eye. “I’m sorry, Lally. Genesis is my life. His sadness breaks my heart literally.” She places her hand on her left chest and buries it deep. Then, she pulls her crystal heart with numerous crevices out. “These fractures are my pain and my son’s pain. My heart cracks whenever melancholy envelops our hearts.” She floats towards Genesis and touches his face with love. “I’m sorry, son. I could’ve known better. I just don’t want your heart to be like mine—fragile, almost broken.” “Hey, Lally—” Gen looks at me and smiles, “—your heart is in sync with mine. Why is that?” “I don’t know.” Jester peeks out from behind me. “You’re in love with each other.” “What? How did it happen? It’s the first time we met. That's too soon.” I choke on my words. “Lally,” he pouts. “Don’t you know about love at first sight? You’re ridiculous. Are you sure you’re human? Humans fall in love as fast as four seconds.” Gen and I look at each other with coy smiles because of Jester’s outburst. The Ice Queen approaches me and smiles brightly. “I’ll leave my son to your care. Here’s his heart.” She hands me a glass case. A crystal heart sits inside it. It shimmers under the light coming from outside the window. “Please handle it with care.” *** Soon, our wedding is arranged and we’re all excited. I have decided to invite my closest friends. We are to meet at the cottage by the bridge where Genesis first saw me. I entertain myself with the buses and trains that pass by while waiting. When I get bored, I have taken my book out to be occupied. I am just starting to get sucked in the fictional world of the book and have been ignoring the noise around me when someone yells. “Run for your life! Run for your life!” I look up from the page I’m reading and petrify when I come face to face with falling debris. The bridge has crumbled due to the impact of the buses that collide on the skyway. It’s too late for me. My body collapsed at the smash. Blood surges everywhere, oozing warmly all over my body. My vision blurs. My head spins as my surrounding becomes tumultuous. Only one name escapes my mouth to what seems to be my final word. Genesis , my love . My heartbeat becomes a faint lub dub— it fades every second. Then, I hear the voice so dear to me—my Genesis’ voice. He’s in panic. “Lally! Please don’t leave, stay with me! Lally!” I struggle to open my eyes in an attempt to have a final glimpse of the face of my beloved. But I only see darkness. “Lally! Please stay. Don’t leave my son. If I need to give you the remaining heartbeat that I have,  I will.” It’s the Ice Queen. With her words, I remember their hearts—Genesis and hers. I visualize her vital organ crumbling to pieces as she sees her son grieve over my almost lifeless body. I also imagine Genesis’ heart having more crevices. No! I can’t die now. Their hearts are at risk too. I must live—for them. “Lally!” It’s Jester’s voice. “Lally! Don’t die.” *** “Lally.” Another familiar voice calls out my name. But unlike the others’ voices, it’s calm and subtle. I even feel a gentle shake on my shoulder as the voice keeps on calling my name. I hear myself respond with a soft moan. “Lally—wake up.” It’s my mom’s voice. How come she’s here? “Lally, dear. Wake up. You’re dreaming. It’s late. You have class.” I jumped out of bed as if an ice bucket has been poured on me. “What?!” I grab my phone only to see twenty- six missed calls from our online manager. It’s 9: 10 in the morning. My class is supposed to be at 9:00. I dial the manager’s number and ask for an apology. Good thing she’s not in a hell mood, she doesn’t scold me. “Just make sure you have a good impression on your new student.” She reminds me of my new student. “His mother requested for the most capable tutor. She’s a valuable client. We can’t risk to disappoint her.” I ready myself and start Zoom. Connecting… My heart beats fast as the image of my vivid dream plays in my head. How does my student look like? Genesis’ face registered in my mind’s eye as I space out. Then there’s a hello from the other end of the connection. My jaw drops at the face I am staring at. Am I still dreaming? “I- it’s you.” “Yes, it’s me.” He smiles. My heart leaps with joy at the sight of that warm familiar face. Behind him is another recognizable figure. An elegant woman wearing her most amiable smile—the Ice Queen. Then, a tiny human silhouette waves at me too— it's Jester. “It’s nice to see you in the real world, my love.”


“I didn’t do it because I didn’t love him. I mean, I didn’t love him, but that’s not why I did what I did. I did what I did because, well – actually, let me go back a bit. So, it was the year two-thousand-and-nineteen when it happened. See, I left my fiancé at my wedding. I know it seems like some cliché, corny movie, but it’s true. What happened is, as my dad walked me down the aisle, he whispered to me, “I’ll never stop loving you, my girl, but I’ll have something now that I’ve never had before: a court family.” See, both my parents worked in court. My older brother, Juan, was a bailiff. My older sister, Sierra (who is slightly younger than Juan) was currently in law-school, studying to become a lawyer. And, the guy I was going to marry, Gabriel, was an attorney. And, everyone always thought I would be a lawyer, too. I can’t recall actually saying that that’s what I wanted to do with my life, but I guess it was kind of assumed, the rest of my family working in court. And I have absolutely nothing against people who work in court. I don’t think anything negatively about the profession. The thing is that I just never saw myself doing that. I don’t know, that’s just how I saw it.

“Gabriel was someone from my sister’s university, actually. Gabriel and Sierra were close friends and he came to her birthday party back home. He and I, well, I guess we sorta just clicked then. I made sure with Sierra that they had a strictly friendship-py relationship, before I interfered. And, as I suspected, she said that they were just friends. Gabriel took me on a few dates, and then, two years later, we got engaged. We started going out when I was in high school, then, the night I graduated, he took me to a basketball match, and I got proposed to on the big screen. It was so exciting. And the thing is, I always thought I loved him. I really did. But then, my father held my hand so tightly and I just felt like I was crossing to the other side…and I didn’t want to. So then, as I was standing there, facing him, running through all my thoughts, I felt unsure. When the pastor said the words, “Andrea Camila Lòpez, do you take thee Gabriel Coleman to be your lawfully wedded husband until death do you part?”, I finally heard him for the first time in his speech. And all I could think was ‘I can’t.’ So that’s what I said. There was a rumble of gasps going through the crowd of people, dramatizing those two words. ‘ I can’t .’ And suddenly, I panicked, unsure what to do but then all of a sudden, I felt my feet lifting and my legs moving, and so I went with them. I ran and ran, kicking my heels of in the process to get away faster. I jerked of my veil and felt my hair, which was initially braided onto my head, fall to my shoulders. While I was running I knew people were getting up out of their seats, attempting to stop me, but I was stopping for no one. It was the craziest day of my life. Easily. And to this day I still can’t think why I ran out. I know I did, and I know I didn’t want to marry Gabriel, but the running part came naturally. It seems so dramatic, right? But to me it didn’t feel like that. And I know I wasn’t just running away from Gabriel, - who did certainly not wrong me but I him – I was running away from the life that was assigned to me. The life given to me without any choice of my own. I was very embarrassed by what I did. I felt ashamed of myself. I felt sorry for Gabriel, who must’ve been even more embarrassed, me having run out on him.

That night after I had talked to family over and over about the whole story, they asked me, “What do you want to do with your life?” I was afraid to answer, to be entirely honest. I may not have believed myself if I heard myself say it. “I -I,” I stuttered. But when I finally said it, I knew it felt right. “I want to clean.”

“That must have been a weird sentence to hear. I might have sounded just about insane. ‘ And why is that ?’ I asked myself. And I think the answer would be that nobody wanted the job of cleaning if they could help it. Children with strict parents are given chores to do at home. Adults clean streets and buildings because they need the money. But it’s no one’s first choice. And then I thought, ‘ What if it was? What if someone chose to have a job that people only have because they can’t afford better?’

I used to, and still do, look at the earth as a beautiful place that humans are blessed with. Our world is natural, green, alive…but it was dying. The industrial revolution was a good thing for many, but not for Mother Nature. All these changes that the world had to go through…bad changes. And littering isn’t helping this conundrum. So I thought that by starting with cleaning, we could save the earth, little by little. So, that’s what I decided to do. I’ve always wanted to do something, not specifically cleaning, but something to save our planet. Lucky for me, I came from a family with money. So I didn’t need to work for payment, and worry about buying for myself. Once my family understood my idea, they were very supportive. Even Gabriel. After a few weeks, I forced myself to see him again. Although he was definitely humiliated, he also said that he realized that we weren’t meant for one another. We grew to be friends again, after time healed the wounds, and he supported me like a sister. I was actually alright with finding my own money, caring for myself but my family always went the extra mile when I needed it. I decided not to go to college, at least for the time being, so that I could work on what I wanted to do. My family bought plane tickets for me to travel to places where it’s especially grimy. And though I didn’t like the physical work, I grew to love it. I loved my broom which fitted so perfectly in my hand. I carved little pictures in my water buckets. I made my job mine. And it really wasn’t the labour that I cared for. It was the after picture. Each month I would tackle a little village. I would help educate the people of the village I cleaned and soon, they started to help me, too. Then, after I finished my work, I’d make sure the people who lived there knew how to maintain the clean state. Slowly, I grew a team. People from villages I cleaned started to follow me, and came with me when I traveled. After two years I already had a team of more than five-hundred members. People also started tipping us, and we decided to build headquarters around the world, for us to stay in when we visited a specific place. And to this day, I have never regretted my decision. At first it seemed hopeless and tiring, and even needless, but my family motived me and I was encouraged to go further. Gabriel traveled with me the first couple of times to help me, and then, when I got onto my feet, he left again to continue his job. For me, the best part was to see the end picture. The picture of a cleaner world, green and alive, as it should be. I always made sure that I left a village in satisfaction. I knew I was satisfied when this warm sensation started to grow inside my chest, a feeling of pleasure and accomplishment after long hours of work. I loved that feeling dearly. And I hope that others felt it, too. After years of working on this, I realized that I wasn’t going to study anymore. But I didn’t care. I did something I loved so much and going to university would never be able to replace that. And I didn’t think I was ever going to benefit from it, because I wanted to continue what I was doing. I didn’t want to stop cleaning. There was something else I liked about my job, and I do think it is rather obvious. Traveling was such an amazing thing that I was blessed with. I was able to visit more than a hundred different countries in a matter of years. I’ve been to countless cities and villages, and I could learn a lot from all the different cultures. I even learned a little French, Spanish and Zulu, and I can say ‘hello’ in over twenty languages! What I’ve been able to do has really been a blessing. I don’t think I would’ve ever done it if I hadn’t made the decision of cleaning in my early life. I even met my present husband on one of my travels to Austria. Now we have three beautiful children (who have children of their own now) that I could not love more!

“Like I’ve said before, I have never ever regretted my decision in any point of my life. It’s the year two-thousand-and-seventy-eight, and I could not be more proud of the earth’s evolution. I miss the times of my travels but now I am able to just rest on our stunning planet. The earth, even though very much urbanized, is very green again. I rarely spot someone litter or do anything negative to this earth. And climate change isn’t as much of a problem anymore. The ozone layer is on its way to repair itself, and modern-day scientists predict that if we keep going on like this it will be entirely mended in a matter of a few decades. Rising temperatures and inconsistent precipitation seldom occur now. People who live on small islands don’t have to worry about their homes disappearing into the sea now. So, my message to you is, whoever and whenever you are, keep cleaning. The world is in a pretty good state right now so I suggest you keep it like that. In case of any similar troubles, just do what we did. Clean. I’m leaving this message to the ones in trouble. You won’t find me in any other interviews, so this is what you need to listen to. Please. And with that, I hope you got my message. Keep the world beautiful and pure, you future generations, this message is for you. I’m Andrea Camila Steyner. Stay safe, and keep clean.” “There, all ready to go,” Amelie smiles, closing the camera. Amelie is Andrea’s granddaughter, who knows more about the modern technology they have today. “Is it off?” Andrea made sure, unable to tell that the absence of the red light indicates that the camera is no longer filming. “Yes, Oma,” the young girl reassures. Andrea beams at her. She is too beautiful. “Oma, I’ve been meaning to ask you a question,” Amelie confesses. “Sure, my child, what is it?” Andrea watches as her granddaughter fiddles with her hands. “Well, at the end of the month I’m graduating school, and well I was wondering if, well, I should skip latter-education , or ‘university’ as you call it, like you did…?” Andrea takes a seat next to Amelia, who is still distracted with her nails. “Well, my child, it depends what you want to do with your life, what do you?” the lady asks. “I…I want to change the world, like you did,” answers Amelie. “Then change it,” replies her grandmother. “But how?” Amelie wonders aloud. Andrea puts her hand on her descendant’s lap. “Well, to change the world you need to identify a problem. What is the world struggling with right now?” Amelie thinks for a second. “Uneducated children? I don’t know-,” she suggests, but her grandma interrupts. “Yes, my child, yes! You do know! You have, since a young age, been given the gift of sharing knowledge, helping others. Why don’t you do that, change the world that way?” Amelie takes a second to respond, then says, “As in, teaching those in poverty?” Amelie’s grandma lifts her shoulders and nods, “If you find pleasure in that. But if not, there are many ways to change the world.”


"Fine, but I want real cash. Not hundreds, thousands," Ben had a bad feeling in his gut, one he couldn't seem to shake. "Ben, buddy, you know we don't have that kind of money," Maximus said on behalf of the group. "Listen to me, you idiots. This thing that you want me to do? It's expensive. It's worth a lot. If you think I'm going to do this for five hundred, then you really are that. Idiots, I mean-" "But-" "It's going to take me 24 hours to get the job done. At most. You have until then. Real cash, Max. Real cash." *** The smell of county jail was of sweaty biker guys and rusty metal. Ben was chipping away at the paint on the wall. "What are you in for?" A purple-haired girl asked him. Ben turned toward her and grinned. "Have you heard of the Whitmore Mansion? The one that belongs to that old, racist, homophobic, white guy?" A nod. "My friends dared me to break in and steal the most expensive thing in there. So I told them I'd do it. If they pay me. Now here is where my friends end up looking really bad. They said they'd find a few thousand to pay me, even though I was going to keep what I steal anyway. I'm pretty smart. "Doesn't look that way," the girl said. "What?" "Show me what you stole," the girl brushed off the comment she made before. Ben rolled his eyes and reached into his jacket pocket and took out a bejeweled egg. "It's a miracle they didn't take it when they put me in here," Ben's eyes lit up when he was looking at the egg. It was worth 10K, maybe more. "A mirror to how our world is dead," the girl laughed at her joke and reached for the egg. "What do you think you're doing?" Ben's tone changed drastically from boastful to serious. "I wanna see it," She continued to grasp for the egg while Ben tried to carefully hold it out of her reach. "I don't even know anything about you," Ben grinned. "My name's Mimi, I'm eighteen, and I want to see the bejeweled egg that this weird guy has in his hand!" Ben looked into Mimi's eyes before handing her the egg. "But be careful! If you drop it, you're dead!" "Oh please, you won't kill a girl," Mimi giggled. "a cute girl." "You are not that cute," Ben was trying to stop the urge to take the egg out of Mimi's hands and cradle it in his. "Just for that, I keep the egg for longer. Now tell me the story. How did you get into the Whitmore Mansion?" "I borrowed a lead pipe from my friend, in case someone got in my way-" "What? You'd bludgeon a ninety-year-old man to death?" "I wouldn't bludgeon," Ben explained. "I'd knock him out long enough to steal his belongings." "And how'd that turn out for you?" Mimi placed the egg on the ground and inched closer to Ben. "Just listen, will you?" Another nod. "So I ran to the house, walked through a bush to get into the garden, that's why half my body has scratches and rashes, and then I just pretended to be a gardener until I saw the doors to the house open. I slipped in, like a spy, and grabbed the first thing I saw." "Do you think you'd rob that place again? God forbid, you get out of here?" Mimi smiled. "God forbid? Who's side are you on?" "Mine." "Good. You always have to look out for number one. Okay, lemme answer your question now. In peace ." "Okay." "You can't tell anyone, but I toured the house and found this fake wall in the kitchen. It takes you up some stairs and to the roof. So that's my plan for next time." "How'd you get caught?" Mimi was filled with curiosity. "I was walking down the street in dirty clothes and a bejeweled egg in my hand. It would be amazing if someone didn't think that was suspicious." "But if you had just hidden the egg in a paper bag or something, you wouldn't be here." "I'm kinda glad I am here," Ben winked at Mimi, who only rolled her eyes. "Cute now, am I?" "The cutest," Ben leaned in to kiss her, but Mimi backed away and got up. She took the egg and held it tightly. A figure approached the cell. "Maximus." "Hey what's up buddy?" Maximus yelled happily. "Did you come here to get me out?" Ben asked, hopeful. "Not as much get you out as get my girlfriend out," Maximus kissed Mimi on the cheek. "I don't understand." Mimi spoke up. "It's simple, really. Max dared you to rob the mansion, you did it, and wound up here. I loitered and also wound up here, to jail and a guy spilling his guts on how to break into the house with the most expensive valuables. Now I have a way of entering and exiting." "Sorry dude. I need money to buy this girl an engagement ring. Do what you gotta do, right?" Ben was sitting there, shocked. "What was it you said?" Mimi was laughing along with Maximus. "Oh right. 'You always have to look out for number one.' I gotta hand it to you, Ben. Wise words. Nice last words, you know." "Last words?" "Well remember that thing I said about the world being dead?" Mimi twirled with her hair. "Well, it's way dead-er than we thought. All we have to do to get you executed, even though that ain't a thing no more, is give that guy right there some money. Turns out, he works for the mafia and is working this job as a cover. Delightful!" Mimi sarcastically exclaimed. "He'll just take you behind the building, shoot your stupid brains out, and we ride off into the sunset with... what? A million dollars safely in our Benjamin Delgado fund." "Benjamin Delgado?" "In Memorium, buddy," Maximus slyly said. "Have a nice rest of your life. See you in hell."


Rahul was about 30, was handsome, tall, slim and fair with a clean shaven face. Not very far from his house lived dancer Malaika. She was about 27 and was quite good looking. She had shifted from dancing to run a dance school. Rahul had been introduced to Malaika by one of his cousins and he had started moving closely with her. People who knew Rahul and Malaika would say they were sure to get married. Rahul was a chartered accountant and worked for the family firm his father headed. The firm had an important client - a large overseas conglomerate. It had been levied a hefty sum as penalty for some infringements of law and sought to file an appeal against it in the Supreme Court of India in New Delhi. Rahul’s father had chosen Geet who was a leading lawyer after passing out of the premier National Law School of India to be the legal counsel. Geet who was also nearing 30 started coming to Rahul’s firm for discussions. Geet was nice looking with a perpetual smile on her face due to which she would charm people with whom she dealt. Rahul was initially immune to her charm but during the regular inter action, he found himself drawn towards her. When the date of hearing in the court drew near, Geet said “Rahul, I would like you also to go to Delhi with us: There could be some points on which the judges could raise queries. If you’re there you could clarify. Of course 2 lawyers who are assisting me will be coming with me. I don’t know how long we would’ve to stay there. It all depends. The judges could adjourn after only a day.” Rahul agreed and the team went to Delhi where they stayed in a 5 star hotel. The hearing lasted only two days and the case was adjourned. Geet said “Rahul your coming with us was very useful. I’m sure the judges were really impressed with our arguments. There will be further hearings when you could again join our team.” Malaika called Rahul and said “You seem to have suddenly turned away from me. I sent you the invitation and reminded you also, but you were not present when the Chief Minister presided over the maiden dance performance by a talented girl trained by me.” “No. No! I couldn’t be present as there was an important case in a critical stage in the Supreme Court and I had to provide facts. I’ll come possibly next time.” “I hear you’re in close touch with Geet. I suspect that’s the reason you’re avoiding me. Someone who knows Geet told me. You should be careful as the same source told me that despite her perpetual smile she is over-bearing and ditches people.” He said “She is a gifted lawyer and there’re people who want to besmear her reputation saying such things about her. She is aware of such opinions about her. She told me so herself. I’m convinced she has the ability to fight off such rumours and emerge triumphant.” Malaika now realised that Rahul preferred Geet to herself. She was convinced that he was in love with Geet and decided to forget him. She said “Rahul, I with my team will be leaving this week end for performances at places ranging from Singapore to New Zealand. We’ll be back after about 10 weeks.” “Have a good time.” After 60 days, a newspaper carried the following news: ‘Noted dance teacher Malaika returned yesterday after a long tour. Music director Oberon had joined the team. Everywhere they went, the team received kudos. The Thai king had requested for an extra show which was met. The team was showered with praise and gifts. Malaika said that the success of the team was due to the efforts of Oberon who was helping and guiding the performers. It is known that Oberon’s wife had passed away a few days ago and he had opted to go on the tour with Malaika to come to terms with his sorrow. It is said that a cine producer in Bangkok has signed up to produce a film on an Indian opera show to be jointly produced by Oberon and Malaika. The group had to perform two extra shows in New Zealand due to popular demand.’ The article had two shots of Malaika with Oberon who was young and handsome. Rahul who had been following the columns about Oberon and Malaika was strangely perturbed. He immediately called up Malaika and said “First my congratulations at the acclaim your team has received. I wonder if we could get together somewhere. I’ve many matters to discuss with you.” She said “I’ll call you later as I’m now busy with Oberon.” Rahul was very unhappy. Oberon was a handsome young man with a lot of money and above all was now a widower. He said to himself: “She appears to have become close to Oberon.” She didn’t call Rahul and so he again spoke to her. He said “I’ll go to any place you specify to talk to you. There’re a lot to talk about.” He called her 6 times when she finally said “I don’t want to meet you in any public venue. Come to my little theatre Saturday night at about 8. The place would be empty since all students and staff would’ve left. However should Oberon need me I’ll inform you, and you can treat our meeting as cancelled.” “I’ll be there as I’m desperate to talk to you.” On Saturday, Rahul reached Malaika’s little theatre well ahead of time. He was finally let in by security on Malaika’s orders. When they were face to face he saw she was shining possibly because of her recent successes. He said “I’m glad to see you.” She was surprised to see him with a beard and sunk eyes. She said “I hope you weren’t ill.” “I was mentally ill which is reflected in my appearance.” “Geet must not have lavished her attention on you.” He was silent a few moments and then said “I’m depressed and have come to seek your help.” She got a phone call and said “I understand, Oberon. I’ll organize it positively on Monday.” She turned to Rahul and said “Oberon has been highly impressed with me. He is producing an opera on a mythological theme and wants me to not only get dancers but singers as well. I’ll be fully busy the next two months.” He said “I’ll first apologize for my having neglected you recently.” She laughed and said “It doesn’t matter as you were steeped in your job.” “You’re being sarcastic! A man can make mistakes.” “So can a woman in estimating a man.” “I can guess that you’re laughing at me within yourself about my contact with Geet.” “You’re free to think whatever you like.” He sighed and said “I can see you hate me. Is it because of Oberon?” “You’re free to speculate.” After a pause he said “I was carried away by Geet’s charm and intellectual ability. In spite of it our client lost the case with costs. I now regret having moved closely with her. She is marrying a member of parliament.” “I’m sorry for you. “Can’t we get together again?” There was a long silence after which she said “I need time to think. You’ve proved fickle by hastily getting attracted to Geet. You lack good judgment.” “Say anything about me but allow me to restore my feelings towards you. I admit it was a mistake to have fallen for Geet.” “Give me time to think it over. In case I accept you again, would you invite Geet to the wedding?” “That is a very difficult question to answer. She is a business associate. It wouldn’t be right to cut her out of the wedding list of invitees but I’ll accept whatever you say. Just let us get together again.” There was an interruption in the talk while somebody walked in. Malaika said “I had ordered food for two to be delivered here. Let us eat.” “I’ve no appetite. I’ll skip dinner.” “You’re being childish. Come on, let us eat.” He ate without relish and she said “I can see you’re really worried. Grow up. I’ll forgive you.” He brightened and said “That means you accept to become my wife.” “You’re again showing immaturity. And you’re dense. You can’t understand what a woman says. I feel sorry for you.” He got up and clasping her said “I thought you would never forgive me. I’m looking forward to settling the wedding date. You decide about the invitees.” “Geet must be invited.” END


JOURNAL ENTRY FEB. 18TH, 2024 Let me just begin by saying I didn't plan on going out on Valentine’s Day, nor did I intend on dating a complete stranger. Honestly, looking back on it now, I cannot believe I was oblivious to the signs. I should have known that my paternity brothers were setting me up, but I woefully underestimated their mischievous nature. But then again, the only reason I joined Zeta Delta Mu was because they were the most intellectually and mentally mature paternity on campus. They never screamed or acted like wild, untamed brutes. Instead of blasting the speakers with rap or heavy metal, Zeta Delta Mu played calming classical and Zen music. The wildest the paternity gets is during the annual chess tournament which promptly ends at 8 PM. Even so, I chose to avoid the crowds by spending the day at the library. Point being, I had no reason to believe my brothers would have pulled such a prank, and now I’m greatly disappointed in all of them. They mocked me for my blunt and reclusive nature, which I am not ashamed of. As of now, I recall them saying how funny it would be if I went out on a date. They never stopped prodding me to find a girl, even when I batted them away like mosquitoes. My resistance only made them more eager to hook me up with any and every girl on campus. They would recite a list of names and ask which one struck my fancy; the answer was none. Determined to manipulate me to fall in love with someone, they pulled their most deviating prank on me to date. I know this to be a fact, because they confirmed my suspicions to be true once the date was over. I found out later that they took bets on how long we would last, and who would call off the date first. The paternity tricked me with a simple email to my student account. It was from Gagnesh, saying he wanted to meet me at Cafe Crubin at 12:30 PM sharp. I showed up fifteen minutes early and picked a table on the foyer instead of a table inside of the cafe. I chose to sit outside because the inside was decorated for Valentine's Day. I was offended that the staff thought a few hearts and red streamers were enough to manipulate my emotions, but I wasn’t swayed. By 12:35 I grew frustrated. Gagnesh had yet to arrive. It’s not like him to be late, plus he knows my intolerance for tardiness. Just when I was about to get up, a Miss Laura Pilliam sat down. I asked her if she had seen Gagnesh, but she did not. She said Gagnesh told her that he and I were supposed to review her paper for her Science Worldview class. It didn’t take long for me to deduce what was going on, and I informed Miss Pilliam of my conclusion. I explained how my paternity brothers were trying to force me to fall in love with someone, and that she was brought to the cafe under false pretenses. Unfortunately, by the time I finished my explanation the waiter came to take our order. He asked if we wanted to have the Lover’s Special, which forced me to clarify that me and Miss Pilliam were not lovers, not friends, just acquaintances. He apologized for his assumptions and repeated his question if we wanted anything to eat.

I told him no, that we were just leaving, but Miss Pilliam ordered two coffees, one for her and one for me, and a few scones. I asked her what she was doing. She explained to me that she really had her essay, and genuinely thought Gagnesh and I would help her. I argued that she could send the paper to my student email, but she brought out a few papers from her bag and said there was no point in wasting precious time. I could not argue with such a practical explanation. I told the server that I wanted my coffee black with two, and only two, drops of milk. He repeated the order back at me and took off with haste. Suddenly, Miss Pilliam plopped her essay on the table. I told her she didn’t need to be dramatic, but she just sat there with her arms crossed and demanded I get on with reading her essay. I won’t write her paper verbatim here, but I can say that her essay’s subject was about the dangers and benefits of oil fracking. The opening paragraph was decent enough, but I started to notice glaring errors when I got into the meat of the paper. The server came with the coffee and the scones, but I was too focused on the essay to take a sip. I snatched the red pen out of my pocket, and started marking every mistake. She asked me what I was doing, but I told her to let me work. The sound of her munching on the scones or taking a sip of her coffee annoyed me to no end. It took all my strength not to strangle her with my bare hands. A violent and ghastly image I know, but that’s what was running through my mind at the time. I told her to stop, which prompted her to ask why. I told her because it broke my concentration, and I couldn’t perform with any distractions. I also added that the noisy environment of the cafe was already testing my limits. With that, she allowed me a few more minutes to work in relative peace. The more I read, the more uneasiness I felt. I’m not saying her mistakes made me ill, but that they looked awfully familiar, like I had seen them before. Then it hit me. The reason why the errors stood out was because I had seen them before in Gagnesh’s writing! I looked up at her and asked point blank if she wrote her own paper. Any other student would refute such an accusation, but, to my surprise and horror, Miss Pilliman confirmed my suspicions. What was worse was that she was smiling about it. She showed no signs of shame of any kind. I warned her that having Gagnesh write her paper for her went against the Student Handbook, and she could get tried for academic fraud. I didn’t get very far with my warning, because she started to laugh.

I demanded to know what was so funny, but she went on apologizing for her behavior. Despite her apologies, I could tell she was not taking her crime with the seriousness it deserved. Since she refused to listen, I said my farewell and got up to take my leave. She then had the audacity to beg me to stay. I demanded for her to give me one good reason to stay. She actually did. I hadn’t finished my coffee. I stood there dumbfounded with a tinge of guilt. It felt wrong to force her to pay for something I had ordered but didn’t finish. I agreed to sit back down on the condition that our interaction would end once every ounce of my coffee was gone. She found my terms acceptable. But little did I know that this was her plan from the start. As I took my first sip, she told me the truth. She revealed that she wasn’t taking the Science Worldview class. I asked her why commit fraud in a class she wasn’t a part of, and what she said next froze me to my core. She did it because she had feelings for me, affectionate ones. I nearly choked on my coffee, which was something I never experienced. I always made sure to drink at a slow, steady pace to avoid that very thing. She was insistent that I allowed her to finish before I said anything further. She admitted that she felt affection towards me since the previous semester. According to her, she wanted to ask me out for months, but she could never get my attention because I was buried in my studies. She apologized profusely for her deception, and begged for my understanding. That was just the problem, I couldn’t understand. I asked her what she could possibly see that made her fall for a guy like me. She blushed and avoided making eye contact. Apparently she found my maturity attractive. She said that I acted like an eighty year-old man in a twenty-year-old’s body. I did pride myself on controlling my mannerisms and that I did not partake in idiotic frivolities. She then went on saying how I was kind to people in need. At this point, I had no idea what she was referring to, so I asked her to provide some examples. She giggled and complimented me for being so modest, only for her to gasp seconds later when she realized I was being in earnest. Without wasting another second, she went into a few examples. She brought up the one time I gave a sophomore a few nickels so he could use the vending machine in the library. She brought up multiple occasions where I held the door for both classmates and faculty members alike. Finally, her last example was how I ran a service proofreading student papers. Once she was finished, I responded by saying that all of the things she mentioned were of no consequence to me. I gave the sophomore spare change because he gave me his word to pay me back, which he did. Next, I was taught it was a common courtesy to open the door for others. And last but not least, my editing service was far from charity, I didn’t offer my service for free after all. But none of that mattered to her. She claimed that I had a positive impact on everyone around me, and that was something to be admired. I sat there completely baffled. I never had a conversation like this before with anyone. I thanked her for her flattery before telling her that I could not pursue a relationship at the moment. I had my studies to worry about. There was no room for friendships or romance when I had tests and assignments due every week. She looked devastated, but she accepted my answer with grace and understanding. She offered me her phone number, just in case I got second thoughts, but I refused. I said there was no need since I could send an email or look up her number in the student directory. In a way, I felt sorry for her as she wiped a tear from her eye, but there was nothing more to say. I thanked her for the coffee, wished her luck and left, not even taking a moment to give her a second glance. I’m writing all this down now because I’ve started to experience something I’ve never felt before. For some reason my mind keeps going back to that cafe, and I’m noticing things about her I didn’t pick up during the initial encounter. The first thing I remember clearly was her giggle, how it was short and soft, unlike the loud and obnoxious variety that poured out of the mouths of the airheaded girls that wander the college’s grounds. Second, even though her plan failed, I appreciated how intricate it was and how much courage she had to have in order to pull it off. Finally, I respected her attempt to show a side of myself I didn’t think possible. I guess from a certain point of view, I was actually a helping hand by showing kindness to strangers. No one has made me aware of this, and no one has since. I could go on, but those were the three that stood out to me. I know I might sound paranoid, but I think I’ve grown quite fond of her. I’m tempted to contact her and see if these feelings are real or just in my head. But for now I must get back to my studies. Perhaps I’ll contact her once I’m not so busy. We’ll see. END JOURNAL ENTRY