She wore my sister’s dress, though it hung loosely on her taller frame, nearly reaching my height if she added high heels. I’m about 190cm, the knee-length dress meant for my sister now resembled a mini skirt on her. The floral pattern clashed with her style. I couldn’t help but imagine her in something sharper, both fierce and glamorous…Strangely, it felt as if something had influenced my fashion sense, constantly reminding me of how she should look. This wasn’t ideal for maintaining an objective perspective.
We stared at each other in silence for at least 10 seconds – long enough to make most people uncomfortable. However, she appeared indifferent to the awkwardness, unlike me, who felt it wasn’t polite to prolong this silent exchange.
I smiled and gestured to the seat beside me. “You seem better now, come take a seat. I hope my mom’s breakfast suits your appetite.”
He eyes shifted between the seat and the breakfast in front of it. After a moment, as if recalling something, she looked back at me. “Thank…you.” She spoke again, her voice not as coarse as yesterday but still deep and unfamiliar, as if she were using a language she wasn’t accustomed to.
“You’re welcome.” I finished my breakfast in two bites and poured her some soy milk.
She took her first bite slowly, with a hint of doubts, as if she hadn’t eaten this type of sandwich before. Eventually, she took a satisfying bite, even licking her hands and patting her belly. With no food left on the table, it seemed the guest was still hungry.
I scratched my head, asking her to wait for a moment while I went into the kitchen. I found some dry noodles, greens, and eggs in the fridge. Although these seemed more suitable for a full meal than breakfast, I had a feeling they wouldn’t be enough for this young lady with tiny waist.
I placed a bowl of soup noodles in front of her, but her fierce expression appeared puzzled. I gestured toward the bowl, “I’m not a great chef, but I can handle simple meal like these. Why don’t you give it a try?”
She thanked me again before attempting to pick up the noodles with the chopsticks, but they slipped between the thin pieces of wood. Confused, as if unfamiliar with using chopsticks, she continued stating. I picked up a fork for her, and she expressed gratitude again, awkwardly holding the fork as she slowly started to eat.
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She took a small bite, mirroring her approach with the sandwich, then indulged in a generous bite, finishing the noodles within a few minutes. Not a single drop of soup was left; she cleared the bowl entirely.
Glancing at her belly, which remained flat as a board with no signs of fullness, I don’t supposed she had a large stomach, yet I felt she had a unique issue, different from ordinary people, but I couldn’t grasp that elusive idea.
Since she didn’t ask for more, I pretended not to notice and shifted the conversation to practical matters, with questions like “where you live?”, “How I can contact your family?”, and “Do you need a ride home?”. My tone softened, unintentionally resembling one used with children. As I bombarded her with questions, she appeared more alert, yet equally lost.
“Well, you could at least tell me your name, right?” I knew searching for details with only a face photo would be time consuming. Still, it beat hacking into the government’s database.
She looked even more bewildered at this question, responding after a moment of silent, “I…don’t…have name.”
Not that she couldn’t remember her name; she simply didn’t have one.
The TV news opening clip intervened at the perfect moment.
My mom disliked silence at home, always leaving a radio or TV on for background noise. She forgot to turn off the TV when she went out with my dad today, and I, accustomed to such background noise, hadn’t noticed it until the familiar news report began.
“Good day to all citizens. This is Emily from Galaxy Morning Quick News. Today’s highlights: All 5 members of the Precaria Gem Squad are about to resign, the new mage generation auditions would soon begin; Mr. Davis, the Minister of Education Department commented that new form of education should take place to complement the development of the new era…”
The TV screen transitioned as the reporter delved into today’s news highlights. An action-packed video clip featuring a team of MahoShojos flashed on the screen, indicating the subject of the news. The leader of the “Precaria Gem Squad” was a teenage girl with light pink hair, elegantly tied in two ponytails. However, the video quickly shifted to the scene where the bald minister was delivering a speech in front of the public.
I turned my attention back to the young lady in front of me, more precisely, fixating on her face, which bore a striking resemblance to the team leader shown in the news. To confirm my suspicion, I quickly searched for images on my phone.
While they looked remarkably similar, the aura they exuded was different, not to mention their significant difference in hair color. Somehow, I felt that the truth was just within arm’s reach, but uncertainty lingered about whether I would be content with such revelation.