text: The water drops from the balcony above were tapping on the hand rails of his patio. They were consistent. Three quickly and then another two, then every three or four cycles they would all hit at once in some sort of perfect storm. He focused on the drippings through the rain and they didn’t allow him to fall back asleep. He stood and stepped out to the balcony to watch and listen to rain drop from the purple tinted sky, trying to watch drops from the clouds and follow them all the way to the ground. The plastic chairs on the balcony were wet and soaked his shorts when he sat down. Sitting he tried to think about the rain. He wanted something, anything to grab onto. There was nothing anywhere he went that held him, that made him want to stay. Some sort of motivation, or reason but it was empty. Maybe if he could capture the aesthetic he was looking at and transfer it onto a page. He thought for about a minute and realized he couldn't. Then spent the next 10 minutes criticizing himself as to why he would even think about trying to capture the beauty of the world for himself. Knowing for sure that he only wanted to do this because he wanted the rewards that would come from producing a piece of art. He thought forward to the talk show he would be on, where they would ask in amazement, when exactly did you come up with this Nobel Prize winning idea. Left leg over right, no, right over left he thought, and wearing something nice but humble. Immediately he felt shame, like he just orgasmed and wished he hadn’t. He thought about the past great writers and artists and how his motives were impure and that it meant he would never reach their level. The thought turned into a fact in the back of his head, I will never find it. He got back in bed with his wet shorts, threw the covers over his head and squirmed for two hours until the sun came up. The sun rose but the rain didn’t stop. The rain hadn’t stopped since he arrived in this town at dusk the night before. The city Shin. This city was unique, everything is based off one main street that runs through the heart of the city. Shin resembled a tree branch. The main street starts at the trunk and ended at the tip of the branch, and each leaf or twig was a side street, alley or road. Shin was a city famous for its rain and buildings. All along the main street building grew tall. And as you moved further away from the main street buildings usually didn’t grew so tall. The bottom three floors of these main street buildings were filled with all different kinds of liquor and grocery stores, one-stop gambling spots, clothing stores, tattoo shops, and lots of places to eat. Storefronts were two or three stories high and the sidewalks in front of them were wide, it gave the effect that you were walking down a huge alley. Above them were mainly lodging and some low-rent apartments. Above those floors are corporate offices or lounges. And the top floors were home to penthouses and very rich clubs. Some buildings didn’t get higher than the third floor, others didn’t get higher than the seventh or eighth and but most reached the sky. Neon signs reflecting blue, pink, green, purple and yellow colors off the rain hung from the first or second story levels advertising their respective trades. Into the leaves and twigs were houses, apartments, tea and coffee shops, more places to eat, bath houses, gambling houses, schools, parks and more hotels or motels, depending if you were on a twig or a leaf. The area outside Shin, and the main street were on very flat land, but the twigs and leaves were sporadically placed on bumps or hills, some tall some short. He was on a hill called Bunker. One side of Bunker rose slowly, and the other side fell off rather sharply. Bunker was a cheap area for lodging, it was on a twig. The lodging he was staying at was built on the steep side of Bunker, and his patio looked out over the neighborhood below. The sun rose at 6:23 AM. He rose as well with a sense of pride, feeling as he was one of the ones who had his life together because he was up and out before seven, forgetting about his fit when he saw the outline of the sun through the clouds. To himself, he thought, “I’m going to walk around my new city.” He began walking down the slow side of Bunker and walked into a 24 hour coffee and tea shop that used a curtain as a door. The shop was nearly filled to capacity with men who were dressed for a blue-collar job, each reading their paper, focusing on either sports, news or classifieds. The tea and toast he ordered were as expected. The tea was piping hot but lacked flavor, and the bread was almost burnt. With his food he began to eat and sip slowly, reading the paper of the man sitting at the table in front of him. The man was reading the classifieds, he was reading the story of a baseball player who died in an bus crash in the offseason taking relief supplies to a country ravaged by an earthquake. What shitty luck he thought. You spend your money and time the right way and you rewarded with death. What a waste of supplies. The bus had driven off a bridge after swerving due to rain, into 30 feet of water. As far as a baseball player he had little success, he was a catcher, with a career .218 batting average and only nine career home runs in four years. But he was noted to have been very active in his and other communities. He was reading about his childhood before the man stood up, folded his paper into his back pocket and walked out. All he caught was that he was from a small island he never heard of that started with a C. He thought to himself that he could have been a decent ball player, he had decent height a good build for baseball. He was right-handed so maybe he could have been a good second baseman. Being a sports writer didn’t seem so hard to him either, it seemed simple, maybe even sports photography could be possible. Then he thought maybe that could be a good story, about an athlete who is a better person than a player. Or the classic fantastic player but horrible person, but throw in some character growth and he’s the good guy. All of these thoughts flooded his mind in a matter or seconds. He found himself almost smirking but caught himself quickly and stopped. Feeling ashamed he shoved down the rest of the toast down his throat and walked out, looking around to see if anyone was looking. The morning clouds were very dark. He threw his hood on and headed to the main street. He reached the main street and had his hands in his pockets. He looked both ways and decided to head for the tip of the branch. Walking he kept his head on a swivel looking at every face and storefront that he passed by. Inside the first liquor store on his route he bought a pack of unfiltered cigarettes and lit one before walking out. The streets were packed at this time. He was pretty sure it was Tuesday, so that would explain the people out and about early in the morning. The sky had lightened but the rain hadn’t. The neon signs were never turned off so the lights were constantly reflecting off the sunlight and the rain making for a very aesthetic view. He wished he had a camera and photography skills. But he had given up on photography a few cities ago. The main street had no street parking. Most of the main street had only two lanes going each way, only in some very cases was there a turn lane. As the stores past by he looked in as many stores did not close and had no doors. The storefront would be open 24 hours a day. Peering in the stores were busy around the clock, and it never seemed as though the faces changed. The same woman at the restaurant, the same man gambling, the same kid holding and passing ads. The last city he was in was far less superior to this one. It was a small town with no more than 600 people. There was no decent lodging that didn't make him feel like he was intruding on someone's home. And very religious, nothing was opened on Sunday, that’s when he took off. A quick bus ride only nine hours landed him here. Now this he thought as he looked around, is a hub, a mecca, a place someone can fit in. here you could just be another piece of the machine. No one to bother you, no one to know your name, no family to guilt you. N. 99th Street is what he looked up to see on the street sign. He had walked 22 streets, with about a half mile in between each one. He decided we would eat, sat at a bench and counted his remaining cash. He had already paid for his room for two weeks, so that was safe, but only had enough money for four days of meals. Paying for two weeks in advance was never his style but the aesthetic of the lights and the rain and the hills made him sure this is where he wanted to be. Maybe he was right but looking at his cash his stomach began to twist. The rain still hadn’t let up. He made his way back to his room through the twigs and leafs, not down main street. The coat was hung neatly in the closet, the bed was made and he was laying face down wondering what he should do. “A job is my only option,” he said aloud, “i’m gonna give this city a fair shake.” He spent the rest of the night going back and forth between reading, trying to draw, contemplating calling home for money, maybe enlisting in the military, back to trying to write about his day, thinking about maybe going to look for a job. Before he knew it, the clock said it was 9:09 PM and he had wasted another day. Brushing, showering, changing and laying down. He slept until around three when the rain woke him up again. “Not again.” He pressed his head between his pillows and forced himself to sleep. The next morning was spent at the same tea shop but without food, or stories of sports, this time it was the classifieds. After two hours searching every ad, paranoid to miss the perfect opportunity the store owners told him to buy something or get out. He left, headed to the main office of Central Allied Security Services. He joined a waiting room full of other potential candidates, he was the fourth tallest by what he could tell, and looked stronger or younger than the rest. The receptionist hadn’t said how many jobs they were planning to fill but he was sure he would land one. He was originally scared he would be late, the ad said the company would be conducting interviews from 9:30 AM- 2:30 PM or when all positions were filled. He arrived seven minutes early and was disappointed to find 11 people already in the waiting room, but was almost immediately relieved to see more than 30 people arrive between 9:40 and 10 AM. A round short women with glasses walked out and announced, “Francisco Miguel Cantor Marinero Jr. ,” in a horrible accent effectively butchering the name. He rubbed his sweaty palms against the arms of the chair, he hated when people said his full name, it brought too much attention to himself. “Here,” he said as he stood up, also halfway raising his arm like he was in school again. “Come on in.” He followed into a room with two men sitting at a table and the round lady joining them “Mister... Cantor? Where are you from?” “Out west but I just got here from a little town called Prosper two days ago.” “And how long were you in Prosper?” “Three days.” “Are you planning on leaving again soon.” “No sir, i’ve paid three months in advance at my current lodging, Shin is where I plan to be.” “Have you done security work before?” “Not officially but I worked in a nursing facility at one point where I was essentially called for any security type issues, escorting things like that.” “What would be your first reaction to a man getting loud or irritated and possibly violent in an area you are assigned to patrol?” “Truthfully sir, I am not familiar with the procedures of this company, so I would rely on my training and make sure I understand all procedures before going on the job to handle the situation correctly.” There was a moment of silence. “When would you be able to start?” “As soon as possible.” “Is 12.00 an hour ok?” “Yes” “How many days can you work.” “As many as i'm needed.” “Fill this out and we’ll get back to you.” After leaving he felt good, he was always good at interviews, he just always knew what they wanted to hear. During the interview each interviewer only took one look at him and only stared down at a sheet of paper making marks. Only the man in the middle asked questions. The round women always brought in the candidates, and the other man didn't do anything but write stuff down and adjust his glasses. He went back to his room and smoked the rest of the cigarettes he had bought the day before and was listening to the rain. He spent the afternoon thinking and wondering about what his first day would be like. Then his second and third. What his first paycheck would read. Thinking of perfect scenarios and situations. At midnight he was still awake and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything but cigarette smoke and two cups of water from the waiting room. Starting down the hall in a pair of medium white socks, his converse, some basketball shorts and a black hoodie sweatshirt, he headed for the small diner up the hill. When he walked out he heard a loud voice saying, “get out,” and saw a large duffle bag fly out of room a 30 feet in front of him. He paused for a second and kept on but slower. A second after a girl came bouncing out, catching herself on the wall opposite of the door. Now he was walking really slow. The door shut and the deadbolt turned. She immediately turned around and pounded on the door once. “Give me my backpack,” she said in a confident voice. While he was 10 feet away the deadbolt turned and she caught the black backpack that was tossed out the door. The deadbolt turned again. “You need some help?” he said it out loud but as soon as it left his lips he felt as though he hadn’t said it. She was checking her backpack and turned sharply towards him and in a soft firm voice she answered, “I think i’ll be good.” He couldn’t figure out why but the way she looked at him had made his head feel light. Like he was inside his own head looking through his eyes. He was suddenly aware of all his movements. He could feel six different parts of his body itch all at once. She had dark skin, but not Yucatan dark. Her hair was naturally black and a little wavy but mostly straight. Her eyes matched. She had a mole under the left corner of her mouth on her chin and another right over the inside of her left eyebrow on her forehead. She was wearing tight spandex shorts, but they were covered by a large long sleeve jersey. He didn’t recognize the team so it must be some generic brand. She had on brown open toed shoes. He couldn't decide if they were sandals or huaraches, he figured they were somewhere in between. Is there even a difference he briefly thought. He was pretty speechless. But the first thing that came to his mind. “Have you eaten?” “What?” she didn’t mean to sound aggressive she was just flustered. “I'm a big girl I can figure out how to eat,” she added. She wasn’t really a big girl. No taller than 5’5 and pretty thin. But the nice type of thin. Skinny but with still something left to feel. She had big feet though. Her toes were painted black but the polish had worn off on some of them. “I didn't mean it like that, i was just headed to the diner on the corner, y-you want to come.” She was digging through her backpack and looked up. “You don't have to get anything if you don't want, I mean if you're not hungry, but it would give you some time to get yourself together, you look a little flustered truthfully,” he added. “Yea, maybe, okay, thanks,” she took only a second or two between words but it felt like an hour for him. They began walking down the hall, he was walking two steps ahead, it just felt too soon to walk next to her in his head. “He turned and said, “Im junior by the way.” “Junior? Thats your real name?” “No, but i am a junior, and I go by junior.” “What’s your full name,” she had caught up to him. “Umm,” he paused, “Francisco Miguel Cantor Marinero Jr.” “Very cool, i’m gonna call you Pancho.” He let out a laugh as they turned to corner to the elevator, “Whatever you feel.” “Im Lizzie.” He gave her a look and she immediately knew. “Ugh fine, Maria Elizabeth Dominguez Perez.” “That's a pretty name, i’ve always liked that name, Perez.” She didn't answer. “I’m gonna call you Liz,” he said. “Eww no i'm gonna sound like a lesbian,” they both chuckled. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “Likewise.” In Pancho’s head he was very relieved to know that she was indeed not a lesbian but he couldn’t let her know. They made it outside and walked quickly 50 yards up to the diner. The diner was small, only a bar that held five patrons and 10 booths that could hold a maximum of four maybe five customers. The diner was called Anna’s and the neon sign was in bright pink and aqua blue. The inside played slow trumpet, piano and drum jazz at a low volume. Despite being only a short distance the different in view this diner had couldn’t be any different. The diner windows seemed to show the city like a panoramic photo. All the colors were distinguished and reflected perfectly against the rain. You could see the hills and neighborhoods of Shin and all the lights twinkling. They sat at the corner booth so she could fit her duffle bag. He ordered a cup of coffee and two packs on unfiltered cigarettes. Lizzie was still digging in her bag and passed on anything to order. “You think I can have one of those cigarettes?” she asked. “Sure.” They sat. He drank. They smoked. She dug around her bag for a while and finally sat back. “I’m gonna go change in the bathroom, i’ll be right back.” She came out wearing black leggings, a pair of black running shoes, and a heather grey hoodies sweatshirt that fit her better than the jersey. She put her old clothes in her duffle bag, put her hand in her pocket hoodie pocket and leaned back. He passed her another cigarette and she lit it with the pack of matches. They sat in silence and smoked. They both subconsciously were peering out the window onto the city. He was looking at the hills and the way the city seemed to move like a branch in the wind. She was looking at the windows of all the houses in the neighborhood and wondering what each person or family was doing if anything. “You from here?” he finally broke the silence. “No, i’m from back west.” “Same,” he responded. “Oh yea? Where at?” “The deserts by the beach.” “Im from the ghettos by the beach” “Very cool,” without knowing he had already, within an hour copied her slang. “Why are you all the way here?” She let out a light sigh, “Long story.” “Same.” There conversations was steady but spaced out. Words didn’t come out fast and questions weren’t answered immediately. The pauses were just long enough for the other to know that the conversations was still going on. He was terrified, he was trying so hard to match her. To be on the same level of cool and aloofness as she was. She didn’t seem to overthink anything. She was acting effortless, asking questions and answering them with absolute certainty and no change in her voice or tone. All the while on the fly he was trying to make it seem like they are the same person. He was kidding himself as he knew from the first moment he looked in her black eyes they were not the same. “But maybe that was a good thing,” he thought to himself, “people don’t have to be the same to be able to be in the same space.” “So why come from the desert to this place?” she asked. “I’ve been to a lot of places in between,” he took a small pause, ashed his cigarette, peered out the window and added, “but I have a feeling i’ll stick here.” For the first time she had a moment of vulnerability and her face made an uncontrolled movement. She enjoyed his answer. She loved the mindset, and it was the first time one of them had responded so soon after a question so she knew he meant it. She also knew this wasn’t the first time he said this about a city, but that’s another reason she liked it so much. “I can respect it,” she smirked at put her cigarette out on the ashtray. “I’m gonna order some food, you want something?” “Can we share?” “Pick something.” They spent the next two hours eating eight chicken tenders and fries slowly, going thru almost a pack of cigarettes combined, and drinking four cups of coffee each. The pace of their conversations had sped up quite a bit, but they had shared stories from various cities about different people, jobs and situations they had been in. And when she concluded with, “I’ve just been looking for something to hold on to truthfully.” He knew then and there he would never want to be in any place that she wasn’t in. He had asked the sky and the rain for that very thing two nights before and he couldn’t believe him hearing another human saying the same thing. It made his head feel light again, he couldn’t help but smile. She was what he wanted to hold on to. This feeling he had was unmatched before. He had only read about things like this happening but never believed it would happen to him or that it happened at all. All the years of hidden sadness, stress, anxiety and feelings of unwantedness that manifested into aimless traveling. Once her lips closed after saying that sentence he couldn't remember any of it. All he felt was an undying need be in the same space as her and that she was the one he wanted to hold onto. Junior is not an irrational person, almost immediately he understood very well that this immediate and deep feeling of need and loyalty was probably not healthy and very well may fade, but to him it didn’t matter, it never did. “Who cares about that stuff anyway,” he thought to himself. He paid and they walked out together. He was carrying her duffle bag. They walked thru the rain, too full and tired to run and took the elevator back to his floor. She began to tell him about her friends back by the beach in the ghettos, and all the young hoodlum stuff they used to get into. The openness surprised Junior but by no stretch of the imagination did he want it to stop. He listened and asked questions and related to her stories the best he could until he had set her duffle bag down on the floor and she had locked the door. At the same moment they both realized where they were and who they were with. Neither had even thought about any other outcome than ending here with each other, but they couldn’t remember how it happened, it just did. Junior showered and changed in the bathroom. She did the same after him. He took the fastest shower he had taken in a while, he was paranoid she would leave while he was away. When she came out he was sitting on the edge of the bed starting at the purple sky through the sliding door that led to the patio. She stood outside the door to the bathroom looking at him. She liked the shape of his silhouette. It was defined and lean. He had broad shoulder and his head wasn’t shaped weird. He didn’t have much hair on his face and he kept his hair cut really short on his head. His face was symmetrical and no one part of it stood out over the other. But in a very classic way he was handsome, despite the fact that they had spent the previous three hours in each others company she had just realized it at that exact moment. Sitting on her left leg the the opposite side of the bed, he turned, looked at her and asked, “feel better?” “I do,” she answered. He put his slippers on and wandered to the patio and opened the door, the cool air and smell of rain on concrete hit the room. She wrapped her damp hair in a towel and walked out with him in her bare feet. “Your gonna catch a cold,” looking at her toes curled up on the cold patio concrete. “Ok mom, I think i’ll be fine.” He gave her a sideways look, she looked and laughed out loud. That's the exact reaction she was hoping for. Rummaging through the drawers until she found a pair of his long white socks that went to her knees, she came back out quickly. “You look like such a dork,” he started laughing before he finished the sentence. “Well,” she said as she started walking back inside and sitting on the corner of the bed, “they’re your socks panchito.” Immediately after she exhaled a big yawn that caused a chain reaction that made him yawn, the her again. He walked in and shut the door, stretched his arms over his head revealing his happy trail under his white shirt. She giggled without him noticing. “I think it may be time for me to get some sleep, how you feeling?” “About the same, can I put the TV on though, I kind of have to sleep with it on?” “Yea do what you feel.” She got up, he got under the covers in his shirt and socks, which he never does. She turned on the TV and had to slap the side a couple times to get the static to go away. After she turned all the lights off she got under the covers in a long sleeve shirt and dark grey shorts. He was still awake watching what she had put on. “You always sleep with a socks on?” she asked. “Naw, not usually. Not ever really with a shirt either,” this made him extremely nervous, he didn’t want to push to hard so soon and have her think he’s weird, he wanted it to be natural. Before he could finish thinking through the situation he heard her say, “just take them off, its your room.” Then she looked at him. It wasn’t sly, it wasn’t suggestive, it looked as though she was desperately not trying to be nuisance. He leaned forward and threw the socks out from under the covers, raised up and took off the shirt, tossed it on the chair across the room. She watched the whole thing. She stood up went to the bathroom and came back in a tank top. They both got under the same set of covers. The top of her foot touched his hairy calf and immediately retracted. His heel slid across the side of her ankle before retreating back to his side. She pulled the covers to her side, then he returned the favor. After 15 minutes of periodical “accidents” he turned on his side to face her with his eyes closed. She couldn’t help but stare at his face. It was even, and peaceful, and when he breathed in his nostrils got really big. She started thinking about their time in the diner. And how she liked when he said that this might be the city he sticks to. She had originally thought he had said this in every town he arrived in to every person he met. But the more she looked at his face, and the more she thought about the night, and his words, she started to think he hadn’t said this before, and that this town and this moment and situation was special. “Is he asleep, is he awake, what is he thinking about, has he thought about tonight?” All these questions were flowing through her mind but she had no answers. Before she knew it she was thinking of the room three doors down, and the guy in there. Nothing but a lazy bum. “That guys from this city and lives in a hotel, pitiful,” she thought. He only wanted what she thought all guys wanted, especially from a young borderline vagabond female like herself. She realized that if she didn’t stop thinking about all of this she would never fall asleep, moving slightly towards the middle she put her back towards his face. Slowly but surely they both fell asleep. In that position. She woke up first. Facing towards him with her arms close to her chest, still towards the center of the bed not far from him. She realized after a couple seconds that her leg was trapped in between his two legs. He was sleeping on his stomach and had somehow put her in some sort of leg lock. She tried to twist it out slowly to not wake him, and maybe she would get some coffee or something for them to eat to repay him for the food last night. She looked at the clock and it was only 7:46 AM. She decided to move closer to get more comfortable for her leg and go back to sleep. She inched towards him and closed her eyes in the same position she awoke in, just four or five inches away from him. After tossing the blankets over her shoulders she fell back asleep quickly. He woke up 47 minutes after that. He perched up on one elbow and looked around. 8:33 AM the clock said. He looked over. She was still sleeping and he couldn’t look away. It was the same look she gave him last night when he turned towards her. After two seconds he remembered he had dreamed of her last night. They were on their way to a baseball game and kept picking up hitchhikers, some he knew, some he didn’t until they popped a tire. He never remembered his dreams. He adjusted himself and closed his eyes again and drifted away.