Leaving Her House

I exit the wet humid air into a box of artificially cooled and created wind.  I brace myself with my back against the railing.  I pay my fair.  Sudden acceleration challenges my dexterity as I stumble to a seat.  Adjacent to me is a young girl, holding a damp purse.  She stares sadly though the window at the night lit street.  Her emotions infect me.  I stare blindly at the floor.  My wet footprints look like a drunk man had staggered in.  I watch the light and shadows play as this vessel moves throughout the city.  Or maybe the city is moving around us and the vessel is standing still.  I look out to see people holding shields pointing towards the sky.  I see people on bicycles, scooters, and electric bicycles trying to escape the attack from the clouds.  Small rain splatters on the front window but the sides windows are still clear.  An abrupt stop forces me to brace myself against the cold metal poles.  I feel a little nostalgic yet I somehow think about the future. Of what will be.  I've been on this road plenty of times but I'm always amazed at it's constant evolution. 

I hope that the ones I love are okay.  I yearn for the past, but if I had a choice, I would continue to the future.  Life is full of the constant search for the unknown.  I want to know what that unknown is.  Going back won't help to find the unknown. 

I reach my destination.  I dare not rise from my seat and I choose so wisely.  The driver stops abruptly.  If the driver were to deliver ceramic pots, he would be delivering fragments of clay. I let the sad girl in front of me.  She smiles at me.  Her melancholy face vanishes for a moment.  She is beautiful.  The cold air disappears and a warm glow radiates from behind her.  A warm feeling feels the air.  It feels like winter turning into spring.  I hear birds chirping as the winter snow melts. I feel the bright sunshine warming my face.  But then it fades when her smile returns to her solemn face.  When a girl smiles, I truly see her outer beauty.

 I'm back in the cold air conditioned air.  She exits as I also step off of the platform.  Back into the hot and humid air.  My glasses fog up due to the high temperature difference.  No need to deploy the shield for the sky; the rain has subsided.  I walk to a small shop known throughout the world, but to me in an unusual place of which the difference is negative three (-3).  I enter and hear the chime to indicate that someone has entered to the workers.  I look for my favorite treat; a small coconut pie.  I see two fresh ones and I make haste to grab them.  But then I remember there is a special spot for discounted items.  I see two pies.  I return the fresh ones and grab the two-for-one discount.  In addition, I grab some other items. The cute faced cashier recognizes me and smiles.  She utters to me a question in her country's official language.  I nod my head yes.  She puts my items in a bag and recites the price to me.  I always glance at the display to make sure I understand correctly.  As I search for exact change, she utters something to me.  I don't understand her but I do understand 'water'.  I usually buy two big bottles of water.  Perhaps she asked me if I wanted to buy water.  But I just give her the money and smile.

I walk down a long road.  Very quiet at night.  Very busy during the day.  It always looks different at night.  I pass a restaurant that is always busy late at night.  I continue down the road and see a few fruit stands selling a few more pieces of fruit before closing up.  I hear the barks of dogs at the kennel.  I smell the putrid smell of the sewer near the grates in the road.  I pass by a small snack shop that I often visit.  The man can speak a little bit of English and I've never seen him wear a shirt.  Perhaps that will change when the weather gets cooler.  His wife, I assume, always suggests to me things to eat.  Usually, I like what she suggests to me to buy, but sometimes I don't like them.  Western and Eastern tastes vary greatly.

I walk under my building. Many cars with blinking lights of their alarm system.  I pull out my pass card to open the gate.  The doorman watches me.  I wouldn't like to be on the night shift as a doorman.  I would be very bored.  I often want to offer them a cool drink on a hot day and a hot beverage on a cold day.  Now that my language skills have improved a little bit, I think I can actually try to do that.  But then again, it's not that difficult to offer a drink to someone; you don't really need to use verbal language. Nevertheless.  I walk through the gate to enter my building.  The door to my building is often left open even though there is a sign to close the door.  I pull the door shut as I enter.  The elevator is on the top floor.  I would've taken the steps up but my legs are fatigued from riding my bicycle everyday.  As I wait for the elevator to come  down, a man has trouble opening the door.  I see him struggle with his pass card.  Either it doesn't work or he doesn't know where to put it to open the door.  I open the door for him.  He says 'thank you' in his native language.  By then the elevator as arrived and is waiting for passengers to enter.  We enter and I ask him "go where?".  He says the second floor.  He could've taken the stairs.

I finally reach my floor and enter the empty apartment. Home. Though not my home.  My dad said "Home is where you hang your hat".  We had a sign that said "Home is where you hang your heart".  Some say, "Home is where you lay your head." Whatever your definition of home is, I am home.  It's a mess as I left it.  But the next day is cleaning day so I will take care of it then.  I take a quick shower in my unusually large bathroom.  I hop on the computer to instant message my girlfriend that I'm safely home.  We chat for a while but then say goodnight.  It was cool enough to sleep without the air conditioner but not cool enough to sleep without a fan.  So I switched on the fan and pointed it towards me.  Comfortable, I fell asleep on the couch for the night.