The Office, Monday, 9:52 p.m.

I took a peek at my wallet to check whether I still had enough money for the commute home. My old leather wallet opened to show an old picture and a few paper bills. I made a conscious effort to avoid looking at the picture and proceeded to count the meager amount of money I had left, which turned out to be fifty bucks. If I was like any other person, I would have panicked at the pathetic state of my finances. After all, there were still two weeks to go before the next pay arrived, and fifty bucks would normally be not enough for two weeks of living expenses, especially here in the city. Fortunately, I’m not like any other person. In a good way, hopefully.

I already spent most of my savings the last couple of weeks watching movies, eating in fancy restaurants, going to amusement parks, and other fun stuff. In short, I splurged it all on entertainment. Well, not all of it, I gave some to charity yesterday. But it doesn’t matter because after tonight, money would be the least of my problems.

I returned my wallet to a small compartment on my black shoulder bag and made sure it was secure. The zipper had no pull tab for me to get a good grip on, so it took a few seconds longer than normal to open or close the zipper. My shoulder bag was very old, and most of the zippers lost their pull tabs a long time ago, and the strap was starting to fray due to wear and tear. The current state of my bag was bad enough that it should have been an adequate reason to go buy a new one. Unfortunately, I’m not as rich as I hoped to be, and buying cheap bags that would deteriorate faster than I could grow a beard would be a waste. On the bright side, having zippers with no handles was hard to open not only for me but also to thieves that would consider me an easy target. Unless they used knives. And it’s not like I had anything worth stealing anyway.

After stopping with the self-deprecation, I gathered up all my things from my work desk and put them into my less-than-optimal shoulder bag. After I did that, I scanned my desk again and made sure I didn’t forget anything. I always tended to doubt myself about most of the things I do, so I always made sure to double-check if everything was in order. It was.

I stood up from my comfy office chair and exited my cubicle, one of several dozen scattered across the entire third floor of the Office in an organized pattern. Silence permeated the entire floor as I found myself the only person still here. The area was dimly lit with a few overhead lights that were still turned on despite the time. Most of the lights were already turned off, making the few illuminated areas look like islands in a sea of darkness. Bright lights from passing vehicles on the street outside illuminated the dark room from time to time, casting shadows that stretched across the floor like long, dark tendrils. Lights were usually turned off by the janitor when the clock hits nine o’clock, but he must’ve noticed me still sitting in my cubicle a while ago when he started closing up everything for the night.

I made my way across the floor to the elevator in long strides courtesy of my higher-than-average height. My steps were faster and lighter than usual, almost rushing. Definitely not because I was afraid of the dark. I stood in front of the elevator doors as the elevator made its way down from the tenth floor. I stood there, still as a statue, as I wished the elevator to come down faster.

The elevator was almost there when I heard a soft click behind me, and all the lights on the entire floor suddenly went out. I made a small whimper as I stood there in the dark, the small screen displaying the elevator’s current floor the sole source of illumination as I waited with bated breath, cold sweat dripping down my neck. Calm down Brogen, the lights were probably just broken. This building is old, and they likely didn’t replace the light bulbs regularly like they ought to. There’s surely no ghost haunting the place. Obviously.

As the elevator neared the third floor, I heard soft footsteps coming from behind me, steadily growing louder as it got nearer. The footsteps made a wet, squelching sound every time it landed on the floor, and it sounded heavier the nearer it got. Common sense would dictate that I should look behind me to find out the source of the sound. Unfortunately, common sense always took a back seat whenever fear assumed control of the steering wheel. Just look behind you, Brogen! Ghosts don’t exist!

I tried to convince myself to look behind me, to find out what was making the creepy noise, but the irrational fear within my mind kept me from listening to reason. I fooled myself into thinking that what I can’t see, doesn’t exist. A bit childish, but so was believing ghosts were real. When the elevator finally opened, I darted across the doors and pressed the button for the ground floor. Just before I pressed the button to close the doors, I looked up and saw a dark silhouette standing right at the edge of the light. As it stepped forward, the elevator lights illuminated the mysterious figure. When I finally saw its face, a wave of relief washed over me, along with a strong feeling of embarrassment.

Mr. Frank the janitor stepped into the elevator, his wet rubber boots making a squelching sound as he carried a bucket filled with dirty water in his left hand, and a mop on his right. The old man had a gentle smile on his wrinkled face as he greeted me with a raspy but surprisingly clear voice.

“Good evening, Mr. Arte. First time I saw you working this late. Finally finished your work?”

Brogen, you idiot. You almost closed the elevator doors on Mr. Frank’s face. Good thing he didn’t notice, I wouldn’t want to insult one of the few people I respect in this place.

“Good evening, Mr. Frank. Yeah, but I finished my work much earlier. I just made sure the paperwork and documents for the company’s latest client were good to go for the next person who would handle it since I’ll be leaving the city soon.”

“Oh, you’re leaving? May I ask the reason why?”

“I’ll be moving back to my parent’s house starting next week. I enjoyed my stay here the past several years, but I’m afraid the city life isn’t for me.”

Mr. Frank’s face showed an expression of understanding, nodding his head up and down slowly. Mr. Frank told me once that he used to live in a much smaller town a long time ago and described how the amount of stress you could get there was significantly lower than here in the big city.

“I understand that. Even I can’t deal with all the stress living here entails without getting a bottle of beer or two every night, and I’ve been living here for forty years. It’s always better to just always listen to what your heart feels, and if it feels unhappy here in the city? Then just leave. Leaving is the best and only solution for that, no matter how much your mind tells you that staying here for the high salary is worth all the stress. Money in exchange for happiness is never worth it after all. Remember, you spend money to obtain happiness, not the other way around.”

I was dubious about Mr. Frank’s advice. After all, how could you spend money to obtain happiness if you didn’t have money in the first place? You would have to sacrifice some measure of happiness at some point to earn money just to make ends meet. Only the privileged and the wealthy have the freedom to truly “spend money to obtain happiness,” and they don’t even have to sacrifice one bit of happiness just to earn that money.

But then I realized that you didn’t have to sacrifice happiness. You could earn money and obtain happiness at the same time if you loved doing your job, but it wasn’t realistic. Only the rich can choose what they want to do since they can do it, while the rest of us choose what we do since we have to do it. A very big difference.

But I did understand Mr. Frank’s message, although there’s one question that popped into my mind. I was about to ask him my question when the elevator doors chose the most opportune time to open, greeting us with the view of the lobby on the ground floor. We only rode the elevator from the third floor, so the trip was regretfully quick.

“Well, looks like this is where we part, Mr. Arte. I wish you luck and happiness wherever life brings you.”

I knew this would be the last chance I would get to ask my question since I won’t be returning to the office after tonight, so I took it.

“Wait, Mr. Frank, I have a question.”

“Hm?”

“You said leaving was the only solution to the problem of being unhappy in the city. If that’s so, then why didn’t you leave? You admitted yourself that you weren’t happy here, right?”

A look of surprise went over Mr. Frank’s face, but then he gave me a gentle, and a bit fatherly, smile.

“My advice is meant for someone to achieve their own happiness, Mr. Arte. If I left the city, I would certainly be happy. But then what about the people that depend on me back in my hometown? What about my grandchildren whose futures rely on the money I make now that their parents are gone? I told you earlier not to sacrifice happiness for money, and that’s still true. Although I sacrificed my happiness, I didn’t do it for money. I sacrificed it for the happiness of my grandchildren. You may not understand it right now, but someday you will find someone worth sacrificing for.”

I looked into Mr. Frank’s eyes, saw the tiredness in his eyes, but hidden beneath is a strong determination. The will to do anything for the people he loved.

“I don’t truly understand everything, but I do agree with what you said, Mr. Frank. I hope I’ll be able to find someone like that someday.”

“With how kind you are, you definitely will, son.”

I can’t help but feel a little bit embarrassed at his compliment. Mr. Frank must’ve realized that because he chuckled deeply as he walked away.

I walked towards the exit located at the lobby of the building as I thought about Mr. Frank’s answer to my question. I didn’t fully understand his meaning when he said he wasn’t doing it for the money but the happiness of his grandchildren. Isn’t it the same? He stayed here in the city in the first place to earn money for his grandchildren, didn’t he? And that money itself is needed for his grandchildren’s futures, which would lead to their happiness. Doesn’t that technically mean that he is doing it for the money in order to give his grandchildren happiness?

As I was contemplating on my inner monologue, someone suddenly slapped my back hard.

“Ow!”

“What are you looking so gloomy for, Brogen?”

When I heard the feminine voice, I immediately knew who it was. I turned around and saw a beautiful young woman that looked more like a supermodel rather than an office lady. She was almost as tall as me, which made her taller than average for women. She had black hair as dark as the night sky whose tips reached the small of her back, accentuating her heart-shaped face, and her round eyes and pert nose gave her an almost innocent look. ‘Almost’ being a keyword there. ‘Innocent’ is the last word I would use to describe Christine.

“I was just contemplating some things, Christine. Now the question is, why are you still here at the Office at this time? ”

“I’m glad you asked, Brogen. I was waiting for a certain friend of mine who never bothered telling me he would be staying at the office until this late at night while I waited for him to come out so we could hang out together. Does he sound familiar to you?”

Christine Hensley looked at me with a withering glare. If that glare wasn’t currently directed at me, I would’ve called it a fierce but beautiful look. But since it wasn’t the case, I would describe it as the same look my mother would give me right before she started spanking my butt for doing something bad.

Now that I thought about it, I did forget about her while I was doing my thing in my cubicle earlier. My mind was too preoccupied with a lot of things that I even forgot about my best and only friend at work.

“Oh, um, uh, he doesn’t sound quite familiar. Does he work here, by any chance?”

Christine’s glare just worsened and transformed into one of the harshest looks I’ve ever seen from her. Looks like it was the wrong thing to say to an irate woman, which, in hindsight, was pretty obvious.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. It just slipped out of my mind with all the stuff I need to do, and I didn’t mean to leave you waiting here for an hour. If I knew you were waiting here, I would’ve immediately come down.”

Christine glared at me for a few more seconds before finally calming down. Her previously glaring eyes suddenly took on a mischievous light, and I realized I just made a mistake.

“Is that so? Well, it can’t be helped then. But that doesn’t mean we can’t hang out. How about we stop by the coffee shop at 16th Avenue?”

Christine looked at me triumphantly as she gave me an offer I knew I couldn’t refuse. If I did, she would probably do another prank on me the next time we meet, and her pranks tended to be somewhat… discomforting, to say the least. Finding a box full of spiders on my front door disguised as a package certainly fit that description. That was the first time I found out I could shriek a higher-pitched cry than most opera singers.

“It’s already ten, Christine. Aren’t they closed yet?”

“No, they’re open 24/7. They have fewer customers this late at night, so it would be the perfect time to spend a quiet and peaceful date between the two of us, don’t you think?”

“I think not, Christine. We’re not in a romantic relationship, so this is not a date. Plus, I already told you several times that I’m not looking for a partner right now.”

“I know, Brogen, you already told me countless times. But I’d like to emphasize the phrase you used, ‘right now.’ If I can’t be your partner ‘right now,’ then I’ll just have to wait.”

I can’t help but feel exasperated by Christine’s stubbornness, but I guess I can’t do anything about it. My mind wandered to the time I first met Christine at the workplace.

When Christine was first recruited as a new employee over at the Office, I was assigned to be her instructor and teach her how everything worked. At first, I thought she was just nervous about her new work environment since she kept following me around. She ate with me during lunchtime, spent all of her free time in my cubicle, and invited me to hang out whenever her shift ended. I liked the notion of making a friend during that time, given my loner status, so I welcomed her friendly interactions with me with open arms. But when she suddenly tried to kiss me that one time we were both drunk at a bar, I realized that I may have been too dumb to notice that her ‘friendly interactions’ were attempts at flirting.

When she confessed to me, I immediately told her that I wasn’t looking for a partner, though I’ll admit I was flattered and happy about her feelings. I was still a guy after all, and a beautiful woman confessing her feelings to me was definitely not unwelcome.

Unfortunately, I meant it when I said I wasn’t looking for a partner, no matter how much I also liked Christine as a romantic interest. If I never had to leave, I would have immediately started dating her, but Mr. Frank’s advice to me earlier just further strengthened my determination to leave tonight. Sadly, I couldn’t tell Christine that she wouldn’t be able to see me after tonight since she would definitely try to stop me, even forcefully if she had to. Or worse, she would follow me. I didn’t know the depth of her feelings for me, but I knew better than to underestimate genuine feelings. Plus, I’m too much of a coward to see her reaction if I did tell her.

“Alright, fine. Let’s go, I still have something to do tonight.”

“Really? I thought you already finished all your work?”

“It’s not related to work, just something I wanted to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Sorry, it’s a secret.”

Christine gave me a disturbingly cute pout. I bet she did that on purpose to try and elicit a reaction from me. Sorry bub, but that ain’t gonna work. They used to call me ‘Corpse Face’ back in college since I could remove all expression from my face and make it look literally like a dead person’s visage. I really hated that nickname since it wasn’t like I did it on purpose. But at least its helping me right now.

Christine took a look at my face and had a look of disappointment. Hah, not so mischievous now, are we? I’ll admit though, she was pretty cute.

We exited the towering building that was The Office and hailed a taxi.

●●●

The Coffee Cup, 10:28 p.m.

The door chimes made a melodic sound as Christine and I entered ‘The Coffee Cup.’ Elegant furniture was organized across the entirety of the room, and the ornate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling illuminated the room in a soft yellow glow. Beautiful paintings decorated the walls of the café with life-like images of nature, while the jazz music playing in the background completed the ambient setting by providing a peaceful vibe throughout the shop. The front counter displayed a variety of pastries and confectionery, enticing customers with their cute designs. Although the price tags did the opposite.

Christine and I placed our order by the counter. She ordered a chocolate frappé along with some waffles with whipped cream and chocolate syrup. I, on the other hand, just ordered some jasmine tea. Christine raised an eyebrow at my order, but I just shrugged. Not everybody has more than fifty bucks in their wallet, Christine.

We found a table beside the window facing the street in front of the shop, giving us a view of the few cars still traveling this late at night. The café only had a few customers, and most of them were occupying the tables in the central area of the shop, so we had some measure of privacy. I asked Christine a question as we waited for our orders.

“So, why did you invite me here tonight?”

“No apparent reason. I just wanted to hang out with you.”

“Uh-huh…”

I just stared at Christine with suspicion. I usually doubted Christine’s motives every time she invited me on these ‘dates’ with her. She would probably use this chance to interrogate me about my life or push me into telling her something she wanted to know.

Christine saw my expression and frowned.

“What’s with that ugly look?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking what kind of motives you have for me this time.”

“You’re being presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“You always have some hidden goal or something every time you invite me to hang out.”

“Is that what you really think of me? Is it that weird for me to just want to spend some time with the man I like?”

Christine actually looked hurt, not like those other times when she was just acting. I realized that not only was I being presumptuous, but I was being a dick as well. To my best and only friend, no less.

Ever since I found out about Christine’s feelings towards me, I started doubting all her interactions with me, as if she was trying to seduce me into getting into a relationship with her. That was why I always tied her actions to some ulterior motive I thought she was plotting. Well, it turns out I was just being a narcissistic prick who thought a woman interested in him was desperate enough to get his attention by relying on seduction. What a sorry excuse of a man you are, Brogen.

“No, Christine, it’s not. I’m sorry, I guess you’re right, I was being presumptuous. But I do appreciate your efforts though, it flatters me when a pretty woman brings me out on a date like this one.”

A flash of surprise and embarrassment flickered across Christine’s face for a moment but was immediately replaced by a mischievous smile, an attempt on Christine’s part to cover up her flustered expression.

“Be careful of what you say Brogen, or I just might think you also like me.”

“I do like you, Christine.”

Christine failed to cover up her surprise this time, and her face lit up with genuine joy and a bit of bashfulness, which was the last thing I expected from her. I felt way too calm for someone who just confessed his feelings. It probably had something to do with my departure tonight. Thinking about how Christine would feel when I left made me feel a strong pang of guilt.

Christine was still too flustered by my earlier statement to say anything, so I just continued talking to fill in the awkward silence.

“I always liked you as a woman, Christine. You have all the traits I find attractive for a lifelong partner. Your personality, your temperament, even your dominating behavior and actions. Although I sometimes wish you would tone it down a little.”

Christine glared at me, but I noticed how she was trying to restrain her mouth from breaking into a wide grin. Seeing her expression also made me smile as I continued talking.

“I always feel refreshed whenever I speak with you, you know? I can say anything I want without having to worry about being criticized or something. Plus, I get this eerie feeling of familiarity with you, as if we’ve spent a long time together. Er, I know it, uh, sounds weird, but I do get that feeling. Like nostalgia.”

When I glanced at Christine, she looked even more shocked. I noticed that her surprise was different from the one she displayed earlier. Before I could ask her about her funny expression, she finally found her voice again and asked me a question first.

“Then why?”

“..Um, why what?”

“Why did you reject me all this time?”

“Oh, that. Well, um, it’s not like I rejected you because I didn’t like you. I seriously meant it when I said I wasn’t looking for a partner. I just can’t.”

“Why?”

Christine looked at me with an intensity in her eyes I never saw before. Unfortunately, I can’t tell her the reason. I thought of just making up a reason, but that would be the worst thing a person in my position could do, so I immediately erased it from my mind. Plus, I’ve been a jerk to Christine too much already, and she deserved better, so the least I can do is to not deceive her for my convenience.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“I can’t say it, Christine. I just… I can’t.”

She looked at my face for a few seconds, which felt like hours, trying to look for something. What that is, I’ll never know. I just continued to look straight in her eyes, her dark pupils drawing me in like a deep void.

After a few seconds of staring at each other’s faces, Christine finally relented and sighed.

“Alright, fine, if that’s what you want. Although your reason better be good, Brogen. If I find out you rejected me just because you’re impotent, I’ll find out for myself whether that’s true.”

“Hey, that’s sexual harassment!”

Christine just gave me the most triumphant smile she could muster, and I’ll admit, she looked really beautiful. Haaa, if only I could protect that smile for the rest of my life.

She must’ve noticed my admiring look because she just snorted and snapped her fingers in front of my face.

“You ogle too much, Brogen. And that’s sexual harassment.”

Christine just laughed at my indignant expression as our orders finally arrived.

●●●

16th Ave. Bus Stop, 11:56 p.m.

“Thanks for inviting me tonight, Christine. It was really fun.”

“Same here, Brogen, same here. What I find irritating though is the fact that you didn’t bother telling me you liked me back a long time ago!”

“Haha… yeah, you’re probably right. Well, at least now you know.”

Christine and I were sitting at the bus stop near the coffee shop. I didn’t really need to ride the bus to get home since I could just walk. The apartment I stayed in was a short distance from here anyway. I was just keeping Christine company as she waited for a bus to arrive.

“So, in what way did I invoke a sense of nostalgia in you, Brogen?”

Christine asked me after a brief silence, her eyes twinkling with expectation.

“Well, you have this weird similarity to this childhood friend of mine. I don’t know what it is exactly, and I can’t explain it, but it’s just there, you know?”

I expected Christine to give me a befuddled look, but to my surprise, Christine just nodded as if it was a given.

“Could you describe this childhood friend of yours? You never really told me anything about her all this time.”

“Well, it never popped into my mind until now.”

“So? What was she like?”

“She was— wait how did you know my childhood friend was a she? I’m pretty sure I didn’t tell you that.”

“Oh! Ah, well, it’s just a hunch. With how lewd you can be, I assumed you got a girl for a childhood friend on purpose.”

“Hey! I’m not that perverted.”

I was still suspicious of Christine’s knowledge about my childhood friend’s gender, but she just gave me an innocent look, blinking her large round eyes at me. She would probably just feign ignorance if I pushed her, so I just ignored it.

“Anyway, when I was twelve, I had this childhood friend named Tin-Tin. I met her behind the apartment building we used to live in. It turns out she was orphaned and was living in a small shack built behind the building.”

“You made friends with a street urchin?”

I looked at Christine’s face and saw no sign of any disgust or displeasure at the fact that I made friends with a homeless person. I only saw curiosity and a hint of… excitement?

“Yeah, I did. I mean, um, not at first. She ignored me every time I stopped by her place and invited her to play. I didn’t have friends when I was a kid, so I was eager to befriend a child my age, especially one that was near our home. It wasn’t easy.”

Christine laughed at that.

“Of course it’s not gonna be easy! You can’t expect a child who has known only hardships since she was born to suddenly trust a suspicious boy inviting her out to play.”

“How was I supposed to know that?! I was twelve!”

Christine waggled her slender finger at me.

“You’re just a spoiled brat who got to enjoy his childhood.”

“No, I wasn’t! Oh, wait. Hm, on second thought, I guess I was. But that’s not the point!”

Christine just chuckled at my indignant shout and urged me to continue.

“Anyways, I finally managed to befriend her after bugging her every day and offering to teach her the stuff I learned from school. I introduced Tin-Tin to my mother, who welcomed her with open arms and treated her like family. I taught her everything I learned at school, and she absorbed it like a sponge. When she finally caught up with everything I knew, it turned out she was smarter than me! She made sure to tease me with that fact every day.”

My mind reminisced on the pleasant memories of my childhood. The memory of me and my mother spending our time in each other’s company as we lived each day in pure bliss. The times when my mother spanked my butt for being naughty, or the nights when she stayed with me until I fell asleep to protect me from the monsters in the closet. When mother welcomed Tin-Tin to be a part of the family, it just made each day even more exciting.

“It must have been a pretty fun time, huh?”

Christine asked me with a gentle smile on her face. The satisfaction I felt from reminiscing the past must’ve shown in my face.

“Yeah, it was pretty fun.”

When Christine didn’t reply, I looked at her sitting beside me, and her face was a bit tensed, and uncertainty was written all over it.

“Um, are you ok?” I asked.

“Yeah, I just noticed something about what you said. You mentioned your mother earlier. Can you tell me anything about her?”

When I heard her question, I felt my heart drop and my hands clench into fists. I looked up, staring into the dark sky. It was a clear night, and yet not a single star was visible, their brilliance outshined by the city’s lights.

I stayed silent for a moment, but Christine didn’t push. She just sat beside me, giving me the freedom to choose whether I answer her or not. Christine may be pushy most of the time, but she always knew when to draw the line. I liked her for that, but right now, I sorely wished she would push me to tell her, to force me to answer, so I would have a reason to refuse. An excuse so I didn’t have to answer the question, because if she pushed me, I could immediately tell her that it was personal, that it wasn’t her business. I knew it was a very selfish thing to do, but I still hoped for it to happen.

I was afraid of telling her my story, my personal life. It wasn’t her reaction I was afraid of, no. I was fearful of the simple fact that somebody else would know who I am, and I would feel vulnerable from revealing a weakness, that Brogen Arte was weak. I made a vow to myself a long time ago that I would never be weak again. But am I even still honoring that vow? I was leaving tonight and I wasn’t even telling the person closest to me about it.

I could just refuse to answer by offering up some lame excuse, but would I be satisfied with that? This would be the last time I talked with Christine, the last chance to tell my story to the only person who would listen to me, and the only person who would understand me. After all, she was the only one that truly knew me.

My inner conundrum lasted for a full minute, but Christine never said a single word during that entire time. I was still debating with myself when Christine interlaced her fingers with mine, making sure I wouldn’t let go.

The move destroyed all semblance of hesitation in my mind and I sighed.

“I used to live with my mother back when I was young. It was only the two of us since my father left my mother right after she was pregnant with me.”

Christine’s grip on my hand tightened when I started talking, and I squeezed my hand back.

“But even though my father left us, that didn’t deprive me and my mother of the happiness we felt every moment we were together. When my mother welcomed Tin-Tin into the family with open arms, the incompleteness I felt due to my father’s absence disappeared. It felt like a missing part of my heart was finally filled. We lived together just like how a true family would. Despite our beginnings, it didn’t hinder us from forming a real family.”

I glanced to the side to see Christine listening with rapt attention. The fear I expected to come from telling Christine my story never came, so I continued.

“But not all things could stay happy forever. A police officer came knocking on our door one day and told me how my mother got into a car accident. The police officer told me clearly that she didn’t survive the crash, and he brought me to the police station, where my uncle was waiting. Tin-Tin wasn’t home at the time since she still went to the job she had when she was still living in the streets. When I got to the police station, they immediately told me that my uncle would take custody of me since he was the only relative I had. I still wonder until now whether Tin-Tin was lucky or not for being absent during that time. The police and my uncle had no clue about her existence, and the good thing about it was that she didn’t have to experience what I did.”

Christine tensed a bit beside me, but I didn’t pay it much heed. I assumed it was just a natural reaction.

“My uncle immediately brought me to his home and told me he would be sending me to a neighboring city to ‘finish my studies.’ I didn’t know at the time that I was being sent away just so he wouldn’t have to take care of me. He didn’t even give me a chance to go back home to gather my things. He just sent me off to a close friend of his in the neighboring city with enough money to survive for a month. Thankfully, I didn’t have to worry about lodgings since his friend let me live in his apartment building, although he didn’t extend help in any other aspect. I only realized the reason for my uncle’s actions when I got into high school. I was more aware of how the world worked when I got older, and I learned that people who fostered orphans received a stipend from the government, and my uncle probably took advantage of that by getting the money without having to take care of me. I bet he even had the inspector responsible for making sure these kinds of things never happened in his pockets, or else he would’ve lost custody over me a long time ago.”

I glanced at Christine’s angry expression. I could almost feel the fury boiling beneath her calm facade. I didn’t know how to react to that, so I just went on.

“Since then, I just decided to finish my studies and live somewhere else where my uncle couldn’t find me. I chose to run away from it all, and I could still feel the intense guilt from leaving Tin-Tin behind. Until now, I still don’t know how she’s doing, but what I do know is that she probably hates my guts.”

“You don’t know that.”

Christine spoke softly beside me, and when I looked at her, her eyes were brimming with tears that flowed down her cheeks. She repeated her words, louder this time.

“You don’t know that, Brogen.”

“But I abandoned her, Christine. I didn’t even try to find her again. I just chose to run away like the coward I am.”

“No!”

Christine suddenly stood up in front of me, her face a mask of sorrow and fury, her shoulders trembling with restrained anger.

“I thought you said you and Tin-Tin were family, Brogen.”

“I did! But not even family would tolerate being abandoned by their own!”

“Then that’s not family, Brogen. If Tin-Tin truly was your family, then don’t you think she would try to find out what happened? What if Tin-Tin finished her studies and actually started looking for you? What if she was searching for you all this time while you just hid in your little corner?”

“…I don’t think she would do that for a coward.”

“You’re right, she probably wouldn’t.”

I winced a bit at her immediate agreement. I kind of expected, or rather hoped, that she would deny it.

“But you’re forgetting the fact that you’re her only family left, Brogen. And family will always have a place in their hearts for every member.”

Christine just looked down at me as I stayed silent, opting to look at the ground instead of her face. It turned out she was having none of that and proceeded to place her hands on my cheeks and lift my head so I was looking at her directly. She touched her forehead on mine and spoke softly.

“Don’t underestimate family, Brogen. Bonds between families don’t break that easily. And how would she ever find you if you keep on running away?”

I sat there like a statue, not budging an inch, even as the bus arrived.

Christine let go of me, but not before planting a soft kiss on my cheek.

“Looks like it’s goodbye for now, Brogen. I hope you think about everything I said. And thank you. For choosing to trust me with your story.”

Christine gave me a gentle smile before she got on the bus.

As the bus left the stop, I sat there for a few more minutes, thinking about everything that just happened. Then I started the walk back home.

●●●

Non-descript apartment building, Downtown, 1:13 a.m.

I sat on the well-worn couch of my small apartment. The building was old, and the apartments in it proved the point through the flakes of paint peeling off from the walls and the pungent smell of mold permeating the stale air. The wooden floorboards made loud creaking noises every time it was stepped on, which caused me no small amount of fright every time I heard it at night through the thin planks of wood that served as the walls of my room. Just because I was twenty-six years old didn’t mean I was immune to the fear of creepy noises at night. Not everybody was that brave. Although it did make me a bit immature.

The apartment I was renting may be decrepit, but it had the advantage I thought was most important. It was dirt-cheap. The decent apartment buildings in the city cost around several hundred to a thousand dollars every month, while the luxurious ones had rents that cost thousands. But this apartment only cost a total of one-hundred and fifty dollars! It did have a few… maintenance issues… but I didn’t mind that. As long as I had a quiet place to sleep and think in peace, I was satisfied. Although the lack of renter’s insurance did worry me a bit.

I blankly stared at the television in front of me, but my mind wasn’t even registering the program being broadcasted, an animal documentary about the behavior of pets after the death of their owners.

The tedious work I did during the day as well as the lateness of the hour should’ve granted me some measure of fatigue and drowsiness, but instead, my mind was focused on the conversations I had today, specifically with Mr. Frank and Christine. Two people who gave me good and sound advice that fundamentally contradicted each other, and I didn’t know which to heed.

On one hand, Mr. Frank had a good point when he told me that running away wasn’t a bad thing. He even said that leaving was the only solution! I actually believed and agreed with Mr. Frank’s advice wholeheartedly, but on the other hand, the advice from my best friend who I also had a crush on offered a more sensible counsel.

I was torn between the two. If I decided to follow Mr. Frank’s advice, I would have to leave behind everything I ever achieved in my entire life! My career at the Office and the apartment I rented with my own hard-earned money! Wait a minute…

I replayed the thought in my mind again. If I followed Mr. Frank’s advice, I would leave behind the useless things I achieved in my entire life. I didn’t even like my job in the first place. I finished my education which was focused on the sciences, and yet I got an administrative job! And the apartment I rented was a dump anyway. Now that I thought about it, I wouldn’t lose anything important at all! As I thought that, Christine’s face popped into my mind, with the gentle smile she showed me earlier before she got on the bus. Oh… I guess I do have something, or rather someone, important that I would leave behind.

The thought of leaving Christine behind made my heart hurt more than usual. Is it because I finally chose to confide my story to her?

I immediately shook my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. No use thinking about it before I even make a choice.

I assessed Christine’s advice next. Although calling it ‘advice’ would be a bit inaccurate. It was more like she made me realize something. Running away from my problems doesn’t do jack shit to solve them.

She didn’t say it that way, but that’s how I understood it. If I chose to follow her advice, I wouldn’t have to leave behind anything at all. Scratch that, I don’t even have anything to lose! But it did require something I severely lacked. It needed courage.

I sat there on the couch, contemplating. After a few minutes, I finally reached a decision.

I’m sorry Christine.

●●●

Brogen’s Apartment, 1:32 a.m.

Brogen stood up from his old couch and went to the bathroom to wash his face. The cold water that splashed on his face banished what little drowsiness there was from the late night. When he looked in the mirror, the tired face of a young man stared back at him. His short black hair was ruffled and his round eyes had dark circles underneath. A stubble had already grown on his face, giving him a haggard look. Brogen sighed at his unsightly appearance.

He went into his bedroom to gather the things he needed to leave. He already prepared everything weeks ago, but his uncertainty and hesitation pushed him to delay his departure time and time again. But now, he was ready.

He opened his closet and brought out a large helium tank, a hose, and a black plastic bag. He put the coiled hose on his shoulder, lugged the tank along with the plastic bag to his living room, and settled it beside his couch. He connected one end of the hose to the tank’s valve and the other on a small hole he cut into the plastic bag.

The preparations were almost complete, and the only thing left he needed to do was put the bag over his head and turn the valve, and he could finally leave. One twist of the valve and he could leave behind all the unpleasantness behind, all the bitter and painful experiences, the sad memories he wished he could forget, the hardships he endured and will continue to endure. The pain of living.

Brogen knew he could finally find the peace he sought for so long once he did the deed. He didn’t believe in God, so he didn’t worry for a second that the sin of killing himself would condemn him to hell. Instead, Brogen believed that dying would simply cast a person into oblivion. A dead person would forget everything, even the fact that he existed in the first place. After all, how could a person know what happened after death when they didn’t even have a brain to comprehend it? So Brogen concluded that a person’s consciousness and self-awareness simply ceased to exist after death. And Brogen wanted, no, desired that oblivion.

Brogen remembered the things people said when they tried to dissuade others from committing suicide. Some would tell them that ‘Life is worth living,’ or the classic ‘Think about your family.’ Those were very good arguments, and Brogen agreed. But when people said life is worth living, is it true for everyone? It may be true for people who enjoyed life, those who were able to chase their dreams or those who had a reason to live for. But what about the rest? The people who were deprived of their reasons to live, those who suffered in the past and will continue to do so for the majority of their lives? They may be right that some good would eventually come in the future if a person kept on living, but is living through years of suffering worth it just to possibly attain happiness in the end? No, Brogen thought, it is not. And people who did not experience my pain have no right to tell me otherwise.

As Brogen sat on his couch with the plastic bag ready to be used in his hand, he remembered Christine, and he felt the immense guilt from leaving her behind. But he knew that the oblivion he would get would wash away that guilt. It would spare him from knowing the pain he would cause to the only person still alive that truly loved him, and the only person still alive that he loved back.

Brogen wanted to stay with Christine. But it was just too damn hard to keep on living. He woke up every day with his heart constantly in pain, the memory of his mother still fresh on his mind despite the years that passed. Every time he saw the old picture in his wallet, his heart would break all over again. He did not dare to remove the picture from his wallet, for it was the last memento he had of the mother he loved so deeply.

Brogen looked at the wall clock hanging above his television.

1:51 a.m.

Brogen put the bag over his head and placed his hand on the tank valve. His hand stayed there for a while, then he pulled it back. His hand was trembling as sweat soaked his shirt. Hesitation and uncertainty gripped his heart, but he tried to convince himself that he would forget everything if he just gathered the courage to turn the valve.

He placed his shaking hand on the valve again, his grip slick with sweat. And he pulled it back to himself again, sobbing and shaking on his couch like a child.

After a while, he put his hand on the valve again. And again, he pulled it back.

And again, and again, and again.

●●●

Brogen’s apartment, 3:53 a.m.

Brogen was still seated on his couch, the suicide bag resting on his lap. His eyes drooped, and he felt a headache coming on due to a lack of sleep. The animal program was still being broadcasted on his television, and the narrator was still talking.

“Some people say that animals are also capable of suicide, and several incidents where pets died soon after the deaths of their owners further provided credence to this claim.”

Brogen’s consciousness was starting to fade as he fought back his drowsiness.

“But scientists and zoologists rejected this notion after further study. They stated that these ‘animal suicides’ were caused by humans’ influence on their behavior. Most ‘animal suicides’ were actually caused by starvation. They were raised for years receiving their food from their owners, and they tend to reject food from people they do not recognize, which ultimately leads to death due to starvation.”

Brogen chuckled bitterly at the program’s choice of topic at this specific date and time that coincidentally matched his predicament.

He turned off the television, put the plastic bag over his head, and placed his hand on the valve. It was still trembling, but Brogen twisted the valve before he could pull it back. The hose made a loud hissing noise as it released gas at high pressure.

Helium gas flooded the plastic bag wrapped around his head, and Brogen made sure that the bag’s opening at his neck was secured by tying a cloth around it, tight enough to prevent most of the gas from escaping. The bag had a small hole cut into the side that let some of the gas escape to prevent it from bursting.

Brogen leaned back on his couch, and after just a few seconds of inhaling the gas, he started to feel dizzy and drowsy. Combined with his lack of sleep, Brogen finally lost consciousness before a minute even passed.

As Brogen suffocated in his sleep, he murmured something with his last brea1th.

“I’m sorry…”

The tank continued to make a hissing noise as the wall clock ticked and chimed, making its silent declaration of the final hour.

4:00 a.m.

●●●

Christine watched the city move past her as she looked outside the window. The bus was moving at a steady pace on one of the main roads, its engine making a subtle humming noise. There was a small television propped up in the front area of the bus near the doors to provide some measure of entertainment to the passengers, but Christine’s senses didn’t even register the sounds of the television program being played, an animal documentary of sorts. Instead, her mind was focused on the story that Brogen confided to her.

Christine felt conflicting emotions about Brogen’s way of telling her his personal life. She felt happy at the thought that Brogen finally opened up to her, and she took it as a sign of his trust. However, Christine was angry at the way Brogen understated the events that happened to him. She knew how much he downplayed everything to make it sound less deplorable. After all, Christine was the childhood friend that Brogen referred to as ‘Tin-Tin’ in his story. As unbelievable as it sounded, it was true. You’ve changed so much, Brogen. And you’ve changed for the worse.

The possibilities that Christine told Brogen near the end of their conversation at the bus stop were all true. ‘Tin-Tin’ did finish her studies, and she even graduated at the top of her class. Thanks to all the time Christine spent learning under Brogen’s tutelage, she managed to successfully apply for state scholarships that assisted her in finishing her education. Also, ‘Tin-Tin’ did search for Brogen, and the joy and excitement she felt when she finally succeeded could not be described by simple words. I was already a grown woman back then, but when I finally found you Brogen, I felt like I transformed back into ‘Tin-Tin’ all those years ago. I felt like the desperate little girl who finally found the family she sought for.

But when Christine saw Brogen again for the first time in more than a decade, she was shocked at what she saw. The cheerful young man she once saw as the light that guided her from the darkness that was poverty was now a husk of his former self. She even thought at first that the man wasn’t Brogen at all, that she mistook him for her childhood friend. But she knew it was him.

It was easy to find someone through social media nowadays, and the profile she saw was definitely that of the Brogen she knew, and it showed her the Office that he worked in. His profile on social media was almost empty, but the cover photo she saw was that of Brogen and his mother, and she immediately knew she found him at last.

But when she laid her eyes on the gaunt man, with dark circles under his eyes and a tired smile, she realized that this was the man she was looking for all this time.

Christine didn’t know what to feel or think. Should she feel happy now that they were reunited? Or should she feel rage and disappointment for the sorry excuse of a man that abandoned her without an explanation more than a decade ago? Her emotions were in turmoil when she laid her eyes upon him as a new recruit in the Office. She was confused about a lot of things, but despite the conflicting emotions she was feeling, she was sure of one thing. She felt sad. Not the simple sadness one felt when something unfortunate happened. No, it was a heart-clenching sadness that tore her apart from the inside. A sadness one felt when a family member died. And that was what it felt like to Christine. The Brogen she knew was dead, replaced by a broken man.

Christine wanted to run away when Brogen spoke to her as her mentor for the job. It hurt her so much just to see the pain hidden beneath the cheerful smile plastered on his face. Christine wanted to confront him right there and then, but common sense immediately stopped her from doing that. She knew she had to know the whole story first before revealing her identity to him, otherwise, he might react unexpectedly. Christine had a small hope in her mind that Brogen would be happy to see her after all this time, but her cold, rational side immediately stomped on that stupid idea. One look at Brogen’s appearance automatically suggested that he would not be happy to have his childhood friend see the sorry state he was in right now. And Christine knew him enough that he would probably close himself up once he learned that. One thing Brogen was not was courageous. Christine knew that Brogen was weak-willed since they were children, so she always acted as the ‘older sister,’ despite him being older. But Christine hoped that the real Brogen was still somewhere inside him, and she wanted him back. She did not know what kind of hell Brogen went through, but she would not let that stop her from trying.

Christine made the logical decision to befriend him at work and slowly tear down the walls he surrounded himself with until he finally trusted her. She couldn’t reveal who she was, so Christine had to build up his trust from scratch, but with Brogen’s current condition, it was not easy.

But her plan worked out fine. She slowly inserted himself into his life, just like how he inserted his life into hers all those years ago. She spent almost all her free time with him, swearing to herself that she would not let him escape her grasp once again.

But as time went by, Christine started to feel more than just familial love for Brogen. She tried to suppress it, and she had some measure of success.

Up until she tried to kiss him while she was drunk, that was. Christine still blushed at the memory when she remembered herself trying to smooch his lips as her mind was muddled with alcohol. But what shocked her more at the time was her immediate acceptance of her feelings towards Brogen. She always admired Brogen since they were children, and she wasn’t that surprised to see that admiration turn into infatuation. So she just simply decided to be true to her feelings and confront them face to face. One thing that Christine was not was weak-willed and indecisive. A life of poverty and hardships made sure of that.

When she finally got the story out of Brogen though, she felt her will waver. The story of how his mother died broke her heart all over again, just like how it did when she went home from work to their old apartment to see nobody there all those years ago. Brogen’s mother, Elena, was also her mother. She was the one that gave her a place in their family. And the fact that she died more than a decade ago without her knowing shook her. She wanted to sob and throw a tantrum right there at the bus stop. The woman, no, her mother, that took her in when even her real parents chose to abandon her, was gone.

She felt rage boiling inside her, and it shocked her when she realized it was directed at Brogen. Why couldn’t you protect her?! Why did you not tell me sooner?!

Christine knew she was being irrational, but emotions were never really logical in the first place. She wanted to lash out at Brogen at that moment, but one look at his face melted away all her fury and hatred in an instant. The pain she saw in his eyes was far greater than her own. As much as Christine called herself a rational thinker, she knew she was just as emotional, and she was never afraid to show it. But Brogen on the other hand… How long have you been keeping the pain to yourself, Brogen?

What Christine saw in his eyes right then wasn’t just pain. Guilt, shame, sadness, self-loathing. She saw a lot in one glance, and she felt her temper cool as she finally realized the one thing she should’ve found out the moment she saw Brogen. He was suffering. And he had nobody else to share it with.

Christine felt guilty for how she felt earlier and chided herself for being insensitive. But her wavering will hardened once more. Looks like I’ll have to be the older sister once more. Christine wanted to break down at that moment, but she knew she had to be strong for Brogen. She was literally the only one left that understood him, and the only family he has left.

Christine relaxed in her seat, trying to clear her mind. The scenery outside the window passed by in a blur.

She looked at her watch.

1:32 a.m.

She looked out the window once more, hopeful for the future. I wonder what Brogen is doing right now.