I have a pretty small fridge in my apartment. I aim to keep my tiny living space as empty as possible, not because I’m a minimalist, but because I’ve had enough of my dad’s bad habit of compulsive hoarding, which filled his house with tons of things that I considered trash but he treasured. So, I desire a clear peace of mind in a new space with very few belongings, intending to maintain it that way for a long time before considering adding new items to my apartment.

Anyway, due to my small fridge, I don’t have much space to store food, so I have to go grocery shopping twice a week to restock. As an indoor, nerdy, introvert at home freelance illustrator who lacks of exercise, I find that taking a walk to the nearby stores is a nice way to get some exercise and touch some grass.

I live on the fifth floor, the highest floor in the apartment building, which I estimate to be in its thirties. There’s only one elevator available, so I usually walk down the stairs and take the elevator back up. Occasionally, I bump into some neighbors, to whom I give a nod or a brief “hi” as greetings. When I was new here, they probably thought I was someone’s visitors at first, but they soon found out I lived here. As a result, I received some cookies and cakes from the nice grannies in the apartment community, to which I replied with some drawing of cats and dogs as decorations - this is the best I can offer on my limited budget, as I’m as poor as can be after renting this apartment. Penny-picking shall be my motto for a pretty long time to come.

I’m pretty terrible at handling people and conversations. I actually preferred the social distancing period during the COVID pandemic, where I didn’t have to socialize with anyone except my clients through internet. However, people became eager to communicate after the pandemic, which I consider a nightmare, especially when my neighbors started initiating weird conversations with me.

Take the old man who lived on the fourth floor, for example.

I encountered him one time while while waiting for the elevator on the ground floor. Elevators in these old buildings are notoriously slow. As I watched the numbers indicating that the elevator had just gone upwards, meaning I’d have to wait a little longer for it to come down, the old man appeared beside me, also waiting for the same elevator.

I gave him a nod as a greeting, and he nodded back, his gaze fixed on the front, perhaps looking at his reflection in the metal surface of the elevator door.

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“My son is gay.” He suddenly announced.

I was surprised by the unexpected disclosure from the old man. Since it was just the two of us, and I hadn’t uttered a word, it must have been him...was he talking to someone on the phone? I glanced at the reflection in front of me, but I didn’t see him holding a phone. His gaze met mine in the reflection, indicating that he was indeed speaking to me.

I was dumbfounded when he nodded again, confirming that he was indeed looking at me and telling me about his son being gay. I mean, why did he feel the need to share that information with me? I certainly didn’t think I needed to know. Did I need offer my condolence? Because he looked pretty fed up with the idea of his son being gay?

“I must have been bad at parenting, raising my son to be gay.” he lamented.

Yep, he was definitely fed up. But again, why did I need to know this? It felt awkward!

Feeling like I had to say something, I responded, “Um...Actually, science has proven that people are born that way.”

“No way people are born that way!” The old man insisted, refusing to believe the fact, “I’m not a good father.”

“Well...” I should have taken the stairs instead, “You know, some people are born blind, some without legs, some allergic to nuts and could die if they consume any. So, people being born gay seems acceptable; at least they won’t die from eating something they aren’t supposed to.”

Gosh, what am I saying! I hate live conversations; texting and messaging work much better for me!

“Then why are people born gay?” The old man asked again, looking puzzled. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my answer or if he had been puzzled ever since he found out his son was homosexual.

But again, why was he asking me? I’m not a god who creates humans! I don’t know why people are born gay, but I do know how to draw BL manga with pretty boys! Oh, and GL manga with sexy girls works fine too. As long as the client commissions me with a good reward, I don’t mind drawing alien attacking cities.

“Um...well, the population is expanding drastically. We don’t need that many humans on Earth. So, unless there’s another Black Death or some sort of pandemic that could take away millions of people, I think homosexuality could somehow slow down population growth? The same goes for people nowadays preferring not to have children after marriage...I guess.”

The elevator arrived. I quickly stepped inside and pressed my floor button; the old man followed. He remained silent until his floor arrived.

Giving me a nod, he said, “Your answer persuaded me. I’m feeling better now, thanks.”

“......”

I was dumbfounded the entire way back to my apartment as I put all my stuff in its place.

I didn’t even know what nonsense I had said, and he accepted it! Fact-check, fact-check, I need to fact-check what I had just said! I repeat again, I hate live conversations!

I swear I’ll use the stairs every time I leave the building from now on!

Of course, little did I know that even when I took the stairs, I would still bumped into neighbors and initiate weird conversations. But that’s another story.