1

Another occupant moved out from the motel. They let out all about the famous City of Hope down southwest. There were pamphlets, catering to the lover of change, innovation and dreams. She bought her child with her, but left before telling the husband.

It’s a long way there, they would need to take on an empty road that cut straight into the belly of a wheatfield wasteland, then cross the long bridge that stood above the great river; it’s way too far to reach with just walking, it will probably take her over one month to reach, if she told her husband about the plan, there is no doubt he would’ve stopped her.

But instead, she talked with Faye that decisive day and Faye was barely listening, and when they asked for input, Faye thought it was another nothings and dreams and so offhandedly encouraged her.

That night the husband was greeted by a dark empty room. Faye lay awoke, she stared at a celling so familiar to her, as the moonlit sky painted itself on the curtain of her room and sometimes sketched itself, through a small slit of a parting curtain, she lay on the floor and felt a deep regret as the sound of a wailing husband crept beyond the plywood wall.

The next morning, the wailing stopped.

Silence and winds that brooded among the nodding leaves is audible. Limbs of trees knocked against the thin sheet of glass woke Faye up with a throbbing headache, she massaged her forehead and sat upright.

She stared outside from the small open slit of a curtain and saw a cloudy grey sky, there’s a wavelike pattern of which the sun tries its best to penetrate, yet failed, leaving a grey tint that submerged the world yet again.

She stood up, her messy white t-shirt with bell sleeve flowed limply down her shoulder, her brown palazzo pants reached the floor from her waist. She traversed her room and reached the doorknob then turned it and pushed it and opened the world outside.

Winds blew against her face and rustled her waist long messy hair. The chilly air blew through the pony wall and carried with it the smell of earth and dead leaves. The long terrace stretched perpendicularly with ten rooms lined up on its length. Above the pony wall, nailed into the roofs are metal wires and hanging from it are clean laundries, it was Faye’s.

Looking out, the view was high as this is the second floor, there was yellow stretch of wheatfield wasteland, overgrown and fallowed all the way towards the horizon, then stopped abruptly as if consumed by the greying clouds. And nearby, just before the wheatfields started, is a signpost 2 floor high that said “Motel”

This L shaped building is, of course, a Motel. Two floors with 10 rooms each. Located on an empty highway in the middle of a wheat field wasteland, 12KM from civilization. On the back of the building, there are water tank and radio tower. And outside of the first floor is a parking lot, empty, since there is hardly anyone, which isn’t a public service or merchant, that uses vehicle ever since the rapture happens. Trains and public transport are still common. Faye herself uses bicycle that is currently parked as the sole vehicle on this motel.

She breathed in deeply, pondered something, then moved her legs. With worried expression, she decided to check on her neighbours. She knocks on the room beside her own, there is no answer. But there is life on the other side of this door, she could feel it, the husband is still in there. She wavered for a moment, but decided to leave him alone, yet there is a twinge in her heart.

She walked down the hallway, and continued the daily pilgrimage that she had formed. Knocking on door after door, hoping for a small change, she listened intently to the other side while grasses and wheat mingled with winds behind her. Her lone footsteps resounded rhythmically, decorating the artful orchestra composed by the wind.

She continued on, the second floor only has two occupants left, herself and the husband. With this floor finished, she walked down the stairs. As light raindrops fall, the earth lets out a chill, and smelt even thicker. The winds intensified, and carried dust, leaves with weak stems and trickle of water. As her footsteps reached the first floor, dots of wet concrete covered the empty parking lot, and the overgrown wheatfields danced with the wind.

She continued knocking on door. And then after no more than 4 rooms, she felt yet another life on the other side of the cold door. Her face relaxed, she has guiltily taken comfort on the door of this room; sometimes she would just sit with her back pressed against this exact door. Taking in the warmth that overflowed. She imagined the lives they lived beyond the door, imagined the faces they made and the memories they held, and then she would imagine the life they lived before then. But right now, she contented herself with knocking and continued down the terrace of the first floor. As the rain mingles with wheat and puddles formed, as the ground splattered and the earth became muddy, the air got colder and Faye is filled with unease.

Arriving at the last door, she had reached the former owner’s room. The empty room is located right beside the business room that is used for radio and talks with merchant. Faye took a moment to remember, fondly, about the first time she discovered this motel.

She was a lost cause back then, after her sister’s death, she closed herself off of the world. She lived in the city north of here then, she remembered languishing for days until deciding it was time for her to find something worth living, she looked for a way to close of that chapter of life and walked south, directionless. And so, she walked and never turned back ever since, 12KM on foot isn’t that far of a distance when you’re contemplating something. She remembered the overgrown wheat and how it stretched its arms towards the unwilling single dusty road that cut directly through the fields of light yellow.

As she walked, she saw something beyond the yellow leaves, a single building stood with a rusty sign that says The Motel, and underneath it is “Open Vacancy”. So, Faye walked towards it and meet The Owner, her name is Lizzie, she welcomed Faye with open arms and gave her a place for free, then there is a man that stood closely to her, a big and scary looking man that rarely talk. His name is Kirsten, he’s Lizzie’s lover. The both of them always smiled and thus the motel is a really bright and happy place.

And then Faye stood still. As her memories continues to trickle, she remembered the death of Kirsten, and how Lizzie kept her smile as she struggled forth, but then one night when her friend Leah, talked with her behind closed doors and left. Her smile vanished just moment before she left. And then the next day she was no more. Faye wondered what they have talked that night.

And then, a single knock, meant to not leave a sound. Touched the freezingly cold door, without life on the other side. Faye breathed in the wet chilly air, felt the tingle of anxiety dotting her lungs and walked away.

The rain drummed upon the dusty streets, what was once mere drizzle is now an endless outpour. With every gust of cold winds, Faye’s breath quickened, her eyes darted from one object to another, and every breath had a small quantity of tingle. Memories of that day three years ago seemed fresh on her mind, replaying one scene after another, of broken vase, of apologies, and of waiting.

She walked quickly back towards Room 6 and closed her eyes. Faye breathed in, and leaned her back on the cold iron door. The warmth is present but far away, maybe on their bed maybe sitting alone, maybe reading books. The rain continued on uncaringly, the road is dark and without any light source. You can’t even see past 10 meters before sheets of rains greyed the world out.

Faye psyched herself and walked her trembling legs up the stairs. She took the laundry drenched by rain back into the red container where she would air it out again tomorrow. Her hands wet by the splattering rain touched the cold metal wires and coldness pierced her skin. The smell of clean laundries and dusty earth flew past. From the second floor she saw the mud glistens and the road stretch toward empty greyness. She walked weakly towards the husband’s door, fingers tracing the wall. Then at last her fingers wet touched the cold iron door, she winced then called out from outside.

“John! Would you please get out? It’s pouring out here!” The door rustled; Faye could feel life inching close.

Then a sound of lock clicking. The door slides a little and opened, John’s eye peeked out and with it, all of its sorrow. Faye felt guilt surging her chest.

“I’m sorry John, you know how it is with me and rains” Faye pleaded.

John’s saddened eyes inspected her then he replied “Alright”, his voice hoarse from wailing. And the door closed, Faye sat with her back leaning on the door. The cold floor seemed to possess with it loneliness. She breathed in deeply, then counted to five, and only then did she breathe out.

As she waited, Faye thought on how to apologize for maybe being the cause of his family’s fragmentation, she thought and thought, and sure enough the guilt surged even higher, Faye thought that the rains are plenty terrible without negative thought and so she found no answer. Faye felt John approaching so she lifted her back and stood up. John opened the door and walked out.

John walked, in front of Faye his back hunched over and seemed to be carrying something heavy. She followed with her palms firmly pressed against the walls, and her shaky legs followed him. At the stairs she crouched and walked in small steps, then John seemed to notices and helped her down.

At the bottom of the stairs, Faye walked towards Room 6, and sat with her back against the door. John goes into the business room and walked back out with one white umbrella.

“I’ll go ahead and check the water filter”

“John”

“Yes?”

“Would you check the Radio tower too?” Faye folded her knees and hugged it “Yesterday I was listening to music when the static cuts in, think the wind blew a bit too hard on it”

“Alright”

Faye stared toward the empty parking lot and the white mist that seemed to blanket it. The wet concrete seemed to be in deeper colour than it was dry, the water glistened and small layer flowed down towards the mud. The road in front of the motel stretched perpendicularly and overgrown wheats stood pushed by the rain and held up by the stems. Water and mist mingled between the stems and the leaves. Beetles and millipedes moved restlessly looking for shelter and safe places. Pebbles nudged by the falling water moved ever so slowly then jumped when a huge drop of water hits it. A frog stretched its legs and sang beautifully it jumped the leaves moved under its weight, he stared intently at the red beetle and waited.

“The damn thing is broken” John came back, the umbrella dripped its water for it cannot absorb it onto the floor. Puddles formed and John coughed. “The water filter is also in an awful shape. Might need to buy a new one”

Silence took the wheel, John took the silence as worry and promptly asked her

“Think we’ve got enough money?”

She raised her head and smiled at John “We’ve got enough to go on for years if it’s just the three of us”

John then averted his eyes and stared at Room 6, his expression unreadable “Three of us, huh?”

Faye noticed this, so she said “Alright John, you can rest easy today. I’ll go to the city and buy the things we needed. I’ve got the list ready too yesterday. Was cataloguing our inventory”

“Are you sure?”

“Doubly sure” she raised her trembling fist and make a thumbs up.

His face unsure but seemed relieved “If you say so then” he walked up the stairs, leaving traces of wet concrete that seemed a colour darker than the surrounding. Then Faye heard his wet footsteps upstairs and the creaking of door and the shutting of one.

Faye wondered the changes a place could have after three years. Uneasiness crept into her soul. Having expectation of change is a terrible thing for it often clashes with a different more grounded reality, expectation of unchanging world however, is worse as the world always move forward regardless of how much she wanted it to stay the same. Time is an uncaring constant, Faye tried to remember, the places she left, remembering the graves and the dead leaves. Memories, as it were, is like a wet paintbrush where the sharp edges make way to a blurry and melting colours.

Faye sat in contemplation, in silence at first. Staring at the white mist overlaying the parking lot. Hard, cold, and heavy is the rain. Torrents of water punching and screaming unto the hard drenched concrete, sending bits of dust flying that metamorphosized into dust and dirt. It scattered across the wall of the motel, brown stained. The leaves danced, and droplets of water formed on the pointy ends. The grasses sang, brooding amongst the cold white mist as the stems stood, defiled by muds. Every breath carries with it cold dampness, fog began to form as coldness sets in. Behind her is another cold lifeless door, sheltering a warmth so unbounded, a life. Silence, nothing but the sounds of rain pummelling the lifeless roof, the dusty roads, the muddy fields, and the sole bicycle. Faye ventured a talk.

“The family left him yesterday”

Another stretch of silence, but she felt the warmth inching closer

“I felt… guilt, maybe I caused his sorrows”

At last, the cold lifeless door is now filled with warmth, and Faye found companionship in the sound of another’s breath, and their beating of heart.

“He wailed you know. You might have heard him last night”

A nod, imperceptible but present.

“Wondering about it won’t do me good. But he looked so hopeless I don’t know what to do anymore, worrying is the mood of the day.”

The rain beats faster, torrents of water fell on the lone bicycle, the mud washed away, and born anew, splattered. Breathing carries with it a small tingle, of excitement, of sorrow, or maybe that’s just how it is when the air mingles with water.

“When at last, another left. I worry, I might be the last to stay, and when that moment comes, will these memories of them enough to ward off my fear? I’m afraid, when I forget, when memories of those beloved got washed away, I would doubt it even happen, that it just another dream of mine, and all that is left is just the aftertaste of a happy memories. The edges blur and emotions melted. And the decisions I will make is shaped by things I don’t remember.”

The rain continues its outpour, without signs of stopping. And the warmth shifted comfortingly.

2

The rain stopped as the sky reached its afternoon light. Roads of wet concrete shimmered with bright sunlight as layers of light broke through the parting clouds. And on the ground, the light crept into the expanse of wheat fields that bristled and brushed as the wind blew past them breaking weak stems and carrying dead leaves along its current. The warmth mingled among the leaves and stems, then greeted the dew that hung on short grasses. Then upon reaching the soaked earth it melded with damp mud and granted the unborn seeds its warm embrace.

The wheel of a bicycle turned and left its mark on the concrete road. Trembling and hissing as the earth slides below it. Faye’s hair whipped and flowed as bicycle flew faster than wind. It blew backwards, sweat beaded on her forehead and followed the currents of wind; traced itself back towards the end of her hairs then formed dew and flew whizzling towards the air. The conversation ended one-sidedly. Faye complained and laughed all by herself, that’s how it always went. But the occupant listened nonetheless, and Faye found comfort in that. She has always tried to make the story sounded interesting to the listener; when she felt the other side getting bored, she would switch to another topic while keeping the mood intact then referencing the old one as it goes. If that wasn’t enough, she mixed it up the added little flavour of exaggeration and hyperbole. Faye have been doing this for three years, she couldn’t remember when exactly but it was probably just a week or two after she got a here. At first, she was just curious and a little tired after helping Kirsten on the fields, she sat with her back towards the room and just sat there in silence. After a while she talked to herself, and felt something moved, and so she consciously talked loud enough to be heard from the other side of a wall. And after a while, the occupant approached the door and listened. But they would just listen and not a word ever leaves the door.

Faye passed a clearing on the fields. Circle of old tires are placed in a circular pattern, 20 in total. It is divided into two; one small circle and a larger one that circled the former. In the middle is a huge pile of old scorched firewood. The clearing is a place of memories. A good one, the place was used for celebrations. One time Kirsten caught a huge deer. Then, at night all the occupants of the motel got together and burned a huge bonfire and skin the deer, they prepared the meat and organs, separated the meat from the thighbone, wrapped it in fat and roasted it. Jokes flew across the blunted tires and laugh bellowed in response. Faye sat beside John’s kid, John with his wife and Lizzie with Kirsten, then Leah, the scientist just goes around and talked, bringing everyone together. Faye smiled in memories, bitter ends that followed them did little to sour the memories.

The bike continued on. The puddle on the road reflected clouds and the blue sky, the faraway white clouds sketched shadows on itself, big brushes of broken stemmed wheat fell on the concrete roads. Silence stretched for a long time, where only the sound of turning wheat and the tikling sound of chain on gears mixes with the passing wind. Faye hummed as the city revealed itself on the horizon. Excitement and unease filled her soul.

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3

The city is divided into five districts and connected by one entertainment centre; one for food production, another for clothing, residential, craftsman, and lastly governmental area. The name doesn’t dictate what goes in a particular district as much as it dictates the overall theme for that area, for example there is a school in the residential district. Every district has their own embassy in another and also the governmental district is overarching and their branch dotted the whole city regardless of the district theme. Its purpose ranges from simple public services, taxation, to law enforcement.

Faye parked her bicycle on a parking lot in the residential district. The scenery of wheatfields changed into a high-rise apartment complexes. Trees dotted itself along the stretching roads and dead leaves covered the sidewalks. Grey apartment complexes that stretched towards the sky is all uniform in height. On the many walls of gates and buildings peeked a black smooth surface of a concrete wall from their thin layer of stained white paint that peeled from the passing rain. Occasional trees looked so old that is started withering, some doesn’t even have leaves. New sprouts of plants stood above the dark brown earth. Fallen leaves hovered above puddles and created small waves of disturbance that distorted light. The iron gates and signs rusted under the passages of times, its hard edges crept and consumed the old iron. The memories of smell are a zealot bringer of past, and Faye breathed in the scent of leaves, of paint, of dust, of wet earth, of mud, of grasses, and of concrete, all of which hides with it distinct memories.

Faye and her sister lived in one of those complexes along with their parents. Their mother is an immigrant from a city far away and their father is a factory worker. They met on the entertainment district, on a theatre; their father booked a ticket to see a movie and their mom also went the same day. They took a seat five removed from each other. On that day the theatre is in its lazy day, so the place was nearly empty. The movie starts, the clip starts rolling. One second after another the pictures began to move, though it was the same wall and the same story, two different people savoured it, and began to form their own different opinions. After the credits rolled, and the movie ended, they left their seats, one grumbling to themselves, and another with a deep smile on their face. None of them noticed each other and so none of them spoke a word.

Then one day, they both took the same road, saw the same scenery of river and trees. They said their greetings and began their exchanges. It was a purely business meetings. Thinly veiled disagreements flew in the air, flowing out of each other’s mouth. The argument began to get heated and in that moment the both of them are their own worst enemies. They saw each other’s flaw and used it to their own argument’s advantage. What was once a professional discourse metamorphosizie into a personal attack. For the both of them, this was their first experience, none of them have the needed patience and understanding to calm their opposites. As sparks began to flew, their talks settled into a long uncomfortable silence. It stretched for hours, they shook hands and left. Grumbling to themselves.

Not even a week has passed when they saw each other again on the theatre, now no longer a stranger. A sworn enemy perhaps, but not a stranger nonetheless. They booked a seat, located as far removed from each other as possible. When passing the door, they bumped each other’s shoulder and scoffed. While the movie played, and the story unfolded; their mind thinks of each other, thinking of the perfect insult. The movie ended, and neither of them retained any memories of the characters nor the story. One thing was for sure, they despised the movie.

Then they walked home, on the same roads, the same district, and the same steps. At first there was silence, yet sparks flew out of thin air. Then conversation began to bubble, then their conversation devolved into barrage of insults. Hours passed until they emptied their reservoir of hateful remarks. A calming silence and cold winds descend, blowing against their face, some flew through their ribs, entered their lungs and mingled with their soul. Leaves got carried by the wind, and dust followed through. Their clothes flapped on their skin like flags on a pole, they squinted until the dust settled. None of them knew when, but a small friendly conversation began to emerge, and a pleasant atmosphere descended. When they reached their own places, they felt like a new world is opened. They knew each other’s flaw yet enjoyed their company, next time they met even insults started to sound like a jab among friends. They knew each other better than anybody else in the world, and even contradicting opinion melted into one coherent narrative.

4

By the evening, the sun began to dye the clouds its tranquil orange and the puddles have dried leaving wet patches of concrete and earth. The shadows are tinted with the colour of a waning sun and the trees sung a sleepy song as winds mingled with their branches. Some of the leaves followed the currents of wind and flew below the orange skies, casting weak shadows on the ground below it. Voices of men and women melted into an incoherent note, stalls of street foods stood idly, above it on their tarpaulin roofing is a pooling of water and leaves.

The city centre is a circular shaped road that surrounded a giant park. On its edges are theatres, music stadium, museum, and specialized stores of different items. There were many people, though not too much to be called crowds. Lovers held each other’s arms, lone adults and also teenager enjoyed their walks, and then there were kids playing with each other. Dead leaves flew, swept by a volunteer’s broom that swung rhythmically creating a brushing sound. Smokes flew in the air, and the smell of a sizzling fat mixed with the scent of earth and leaves.

The filter is sold through the mall that stood gallantly beside the theatre. Its walls are washed by the setting sun and the neon lamps blinked to life. Faye stared at her list of items and thought for a little while. She then decided to make an appointment with the mechanic via the postman office before entering the mall as it is the only one which isn’t available inside.

The mall is a really huge place, may floors and booths. The most popular section is the clothing. Faye walked around the many floored mall and her legs daintily moved above the marble floor. With sparkling eyes, she goes through her list of items. She bought foods then guiltily bought clothes. Just a little she told herself, is fine. Asking around it seemed that the water filter is on the fourth floor, so Faye went down one floor after she purchased a meat from the butcher. The city is not much too different but some of its elements changed, Faye supposed that it retained what makes it familiar and innovated in a way that doesn’t really disturb the occupants.

Faye arrived at the fourth floor and saw people wondering about, her bags of groceries are heavy, and she hugged it tightly so it doesn’t fall when she bumped into another. She looked around, and the groceries swung, and then she finally found it. The booth is lit by an orange light that radiated comfort, contrasting it with the surrounding white florescent lamps. The booth is a mess, many different tools hanged on the wall and some strewn about the grounds. On the back of the booth hanged many different blueprints that the owner made. And then she found someone she recognizes. He waved his calloused hand when his deep blue eyes noticed her. His teeth showed through the wide smile that lit his face. White beards and messy greying hair atop of a muscular body. He looked almost like a grizzly bear. He wore green patterned shirt that is overlaid by grey overall and beige apron. On his sun-burnt face is an aviation goggle to protect his eyes when soldering. His name is Cal.

“Faye! Lon’ time no seein’” His excited and surprised mouth shouted, the hoarse voice echoed on the surrounding floor. The crowd turned their heads, glanced, then promptly forget.

“Missed me?” Faye replied walking closer to the booth, her hands carried the groceries.

“Ha-ha, I’d miss anyone ‘f a week pass’d ‘thout me seein’ their face” He coughed then continued “S’pose John ain’t comin’ t’day. Yer here fer the water filter?”

“Yep, and about John… well, he’s all gloomy today. Family left him down the south”

Cal heaved a deep sigh “That sucked” then he sadly stared at Faye “Ye shouldnve left ‘im alone there, John’s got a problem with bein’ lonely” he rustled his hair.

Cal walked back towards the left side of the room and looked around the hanging tools, his steps nudged the tools that was on the floor every now and then. He looked around the wall and opened a cabinet, then he made a puzzled face. He then turned towards the right side and looked around.

Cal said while looking around “Southern city huh? ‘member Sam? Well he’s there workin’ and livin’. Left just two years ago” his trained hands moved around the tools. “Told me how far it is on the letter, 400 miles, across the great river, and there’s only small towns dotted along the roads” His face smiled bitterly “John’s defini’ly gointa disagree, he’d be sane to do so. Dunno what’s gotten into Angie” he paused and sighed, a small hint of sadness crept up in his face “John’s kid is only 14 isn’t he? Bringin’ a child on a long journey on foot like that…”. Cal stopped talking and moved around the pile of tools, then he opened a cabinet that was buried within the old utilities, he perked up and took out a water filter.

“Well, wouldye looka that!” he exclaimed. “’ere’s yer water filter. Apologies fer takin’ so long. Place’s kinda messy right now” Cal smiled, then tilted his head. His eyes rounded and a mischievous smile overtook his current one “Mary! Look, guess who’s here!” He waved, smiling at the unexpected reunion. While Faye froze at the mention of that name.

5

Faye and Mary go a long way back. They were neighbour once. When they were kids their parents are very close friends, so they often came over and then Faye and Mary would play together. It’s a very natural thing to happen, just as dandelion seeds follow the direction of wind, children would live according to their guardian’s direction. They’d talk about anything their childish mind can conceive, about dreams, about that boy on the other side of the streets about weird singing voice in the night. They’d play and planned for mischief, plot schemes to get more allowance, finding way to sneak into theatre, and knit two clothes so they stick together and then it would definitely disturb their parents. They laughed about it inside their secret bases under the secret trees.

Mary differed from Faye, and while she has the tendency of being childish, her biggest goal in life is to be adult. She puts all her efforts to reach her own image of adults, which as we’ve all once experienced, was much too idealistic. She would prop her walks, imitating random adults she saw, trying on mature speech pattern that sounded comical to the ear of normal person, and finally she would insist on being the older sister. She saw Faye as her helpless little sister, and when Faye beaten her in something she would sulk for days, and when that period is over and she missed Faye, she would puff out her chest and feign confidence until she felt that she has regained her respect. She drew up schemes and think up ideas, then she would drag Faye into it and when they failed, she took all responsibilities, take all the blame and protected Faye from the angry adults.

And then one day it happened, a child was born. Faye has a little sister their parents overjoyed and Faye smiled, she did not notice the distant confused look Mary has. She felt defeated, but this time by a force she doesn’t understand and cannot interfere with. No matter how hard she tried she wouldn’t be able to change the outcome or how it all came to be. She cannot believe how Faye became something she has always dreamed to be.

The next day her parents visited Faye’s and she also have to come over. She stood on one corner of the room, then tried to act like she always has, but her hands are trembling and she cannot stop it. She feigned confidence and put on a mature speech pattern, she puts her all, the trainings and practices she has, the sleepless night that she spent studying, she did it all, she pulled up a front of which its construction is her life’s work. Mary asked Faye for a walk, she joked and laughed they talked and talked, yet a distance has suddenly opened up. They reached the edges of town; the wheat field wasteland opens up in front of them. Wind blew and the wheat whipped and rustled, formed waves of yellow oceans of wheats that sang an ode to the dry leaves that followed the current of winds. Mary felt the winds hitting her cheeks, her voice cracked, she stopped talking. Trying to breathe only heightened the pain. Tears flowed and the dam broke, she sobbed as rivers formed on her wet cheeks, the water dripped and unborn seeds absorbed it, her face scrunched she tried to stop it but it is in vain, hiccups broke the unbroken string of sadness into chunks. Faye stood; she has stolen a dream that Mary puts her all into achieving. Mary sobbed, as Faye watched how the dead leaves followed the currents of the cold uncaring winds

6

The clash of expectation and reality could make even siblings a stranger. Faye and Mary stood for an uncomfortable length of silence. The air was thick, and Cal was debating whether to cut it with his knife. The Mary in front of her differed from her image; the once long hair is now a shoulder length bob, her pointy chin has a small scar on it, and her well-shaped nose is a little crooked to the side. Faye’s image overlaid the Mary in front of her and melted together painlessly. Mary regarded Faye closely. Her images of Faye clashes with the physical form that stood in front of her. Her world once again clashed with reality, the past and the present melted. Her mouth opened and closed, feeling out the distance that has opened up between them.

Mary finally broke the silence “Faye… uh, you looked different”

“Broodier”

“I guess so yeah”

“It has been a long time, you’ve changed also, I think”

They smiled and the air melted and regained its fluidity. Cal lets out a relieved sigh

“Thought I might’ve ruined a good reunion.” Then Cal turned to Mary. “’ere for the blueprin’s” He spoke with wide smile

“Yeah” Mary replied then thought a little “I think that digging rig would also be fine to have, could you perhaps assemble it there tomorrow evening?”

“Supposing the weather is fine” Cal nodded

Faye interjected “Helping the landowner?”

Mary stared at her in confusion. Then she realized that Faye wouldn’t have heard the news, so she regained her calm and unoffensive smile “Remember when we used to help old Rika? She died two years and a half ago, and I kind of inherited the apartment you see” she said “Well, you were written in the wills too, but since you’ve weren’t there, I took care of it apparently she thinks of us as her daughter” She smiled sadly. And then continued awkwardly “So um, why are you here?”

Cal replied “Faye here is buyin’ water filter”

“Ah, is it for the Motel?”

Faye nodded

“Is John, okay? Isn’t this usually his job?” Mary worriedly asked.

Faye considered how to reply “Well, his family kind of left him alone”

Mary stood in silently, then finally replied “I-I see”

Cal placed a letter in front of Mary “Well ‘ere it is, I’ll come by tomorra”

Mary nodded “Alright I’ll be waiting” then she turned around “Faye”

“Yes?”

“The Apartment is half yours; you can come anytime you want. It’s pretty messy since I’m doing some reworking but I would be glad to have you around. Many have changed you know, some of our old friend too, it would be nice to have you back and maybe restore our relationship”

“Thank you, I’ll think about it”

She nodded then leaves.

“Cal, how much does a well cost?”

“Why d’ye wanta well? A water tower ‘n that filter ‘s good ‘nough”

“Sometimes it ran out, the pitcher is too small”

“Alright”

Cal then fell into thought

“Well, usually I survey’d the area and figure out th price there” Cal replied, then stared at the celling thinking about something. “Tell you what, I’m thinkin’ of visitin’ John soon. Maybe we could discuss this more in depth then”

“Ah okay”

Cal thought for a while as if hesitating whether to say it “And about John, I hink you should keep an eye on ‘im, heavens know the world has ‘nough of gloom”

7

Faye bought a bouquet of flower and walked towards the cemetery. The light blue colours of the petal are dyed with the dimming orange tint, sharp shadows of buildings and trees scrawled along the concrete road, the many coloured dead leaves covered the road and sometimes blown by the winds, flew here and there. One touched her cheek and then the smell of earth would spread carried by the winds and washed over her hair and possessed her nostrils. Faye closed her eyes and sighed.

The cemetery is located at the edges of the city, leaves of a withered tree fell one by one, shaved by the slow-moving winds. Round and square gravestones are neatly lined up, some have moss growing on it and some is covered with mountains of leaves. Among them is a small gravestone, the mound is clean and there is a cup of water at the side of the stone. Faye thought of Mary, she might have kept this grave clean while Faye is away, and there is a small sunflower resting on the base of the gravestone. Faye put her bouquet atop the stone and stood still against the blowing winds, the bouquet falls over to the other side, she picked it up again and put small rocks inside the wrapping, the plastics and petals danced as the winds mingled with them. Leaves moved around and fell upon the ground and as her bell sleeved t-shirt whipped and flowed from the winds. Faye thought she have steeled herself against the memories, yet they surged limitlessly inside her, taking a shape and form. She watched herself from far away, cold and unfeeling. All the happy memories and the bitter ends just swirled in front of her. A tug on her chest, she remembered her voices, and her words, she remembered her scent, she remembered her eyes, she remembered her soft hands, and she remembered her laugh. She also remembered her tears, her apologies, and the regret it contains. She still remembers her determination. The memories closed in and enveloped her within its warmth and pain. With tickling happiness and stabbing sadness. She found herself lost within it, and the world distorts as the tears fell into the ground, dripping. Her breath is short and uncontrolled

8

The bicycle treaded along the concrete cut, it traced the scarring of earth and drawn lines over the marks that it had left before. The wheat reached its skinny fingers, starved for affection for man has left it fallow. Yet Faye rode along, noting that her heart is weaker than it was the morning before. The shadow casted by the wheel rotated, leaving only a deep red circle that the waning sun created. Faye did not think of anything at all, her mind focused and zoomed on a certain memory three years before, her eyes looked empty and lids puffy and red. Faye’s expressionless face stared ahead, the gears ticked and the bicycle wheel turned.

The wheat brushed her cheek, and Faye jolt awake, she then decided to walk. Her mind slowly returned, a soft hissing sound like sponge absorbing resounded in her mind, her vision slowly comes back to the present and the sound of rustling wheats brushing against each other and the footsteps of ants suddenly regained clarity, an unplugging of the ear. The scent of air and fallow earth, of dead leaves and dust, of mud and bugs, assaulted her senses. She could feel her bell sleeved t-shirt touching her skin, flapping and whipping against the currents of winds, she could feel her palazzo pants pushed and pulled by winds, touching her skins. She moved her face around, parked the bicycle and slapped herself, squished her cheeks and finally dropped her hand back to her sides and breathed deep. She counted to five and finally let it out. She could feel the air moving through her throat and nostrils. And so, she walked feeling every brush of leaves and wheats, the sound of cracking pebbles and dirt as her shoes stepped on it.

She reached the tire park, and beyond the shaded wheats, beyond the thin stems of dead wheats. She saw John sitting on one of the tires. His back towards the roads. She stopped walking and turned to walk towards him. The bicycle tires and the footsteps changed quality, as it now treaded upon a soft uneven surface of dead stems that piled upon another and formed bed of wheat above rocks and pebbles. The tires John sat at bent and tear, the blunt edges seemed to be rimmed with soft hair. His face is half covered by the shadow cast from the waning sun. Sorrow emanated from him but also a small amount of conviction. He turned towards Faye.

“Faye” he called

“Yes?”

“I’ve decided” Faye prepared herself, he raised his head and turned straight ahead, the waning sun cleared the shadow upon his face and the stubbly skin is washed by red light. “I will stay, until the end I will stay. I will help you and keep teaching those kids in school, God knows they needs education. I will fix anything that needed to be fixing, I will get us money and you won’t have to worry about anything. You will never starve, nor will the water filter broke, nor will the radio emit static”

Faye stared at his face, the waning sun casted shadow on her face and only the glint of her eyes is visible. John stared at her, trying to discern any response. “I’m glad” she finally spoke, John let a satisfied and relieved smile crept on his face.

“Thank you” he stood up “I’ll be your hands and feet, depend on me as you will and I won’t even complain if you worked me to the bones.” He stretched “You won’t need to go to that city anymore, I’ll take care of that like I’ve always have. You’re the Motel owner now, make sure it run smoothly”

Faye nodded “Thank you” she then stepped back, and the sun shone her smiling face “Then, I will also promise to never leave you alone, nor will I leave this place. If anybody came, I’ll be here, and if you go to the city, I’ll be waiting for your return”

The exchange of promises is bond with the soul and fate of those involved. The dying sun and the wind and wheats sang as their witness.

After those exchange of promises they walked home. Faye dragged her bike and talked to John, they joked and laughed. The wavering light vanished at last and the cover of day finally rested. The boundless sky is uncovered and bright stars starts its journey toward the west, little by little they sunk and descend, and in the east they ascended. The moons stared and reflected off the leaves. The night is dark and the road pitch black. The winds brood amongst the wheat and carried cold currents of air that flowed with the dead leaves. Crickets and frogs sang its melodies and fireflies journeyed towards the endless wheatfield wasteland; some could be seen playing just above the fields. And then the motel finally came into view, the light that the sign made shone brighter than the moon, 19 dark room, and one with orange light spilling out a closed curtain is visible. The empty parking lot itself almost shone with white light.