It was my fifth birthday. Everyone was here. The house was a mess of balloons, bright streamers, and half-eaten cake that I had no intention of finishing. Not because I didn't like cake—I loved cake. But today, the cake was a distraction. A distraction from actual important matters, like solving the riddle of how humans could be so… ridiculous.
"Happy birthday, Aslaan!" someone shouted, shaking me by the shoulders. I nearly fell off the couch, but I didn't complain. Complaints waste time, and I didn't have time to waste.
"Thank you," I said, my voice as flat as a pancake. My dad, a retired military officer, would have me in a chokehold if I didn't say something polite. I was polite, not out of courtesy, but because survival was important.
The guest—whom I had never seen before—handed me a toy truck. A blue plastic truck. Again. It seemed like I received the same useless things every year.
"I've already solved for the angle of the truck's wheels and the friction on the axles," I thought, but then quickly decided it would be better not to say anything. They wouldn't get it.
"Thank you," I said again, but this time, my voice was more of a sigh than a word.
My mother smiled, watching me through her soft eyes. She was a doctor and loved playing it safe. Everything needed to be done the proper way, or else, the world would collapse. I could respect that. What I couldn't respect, however, was how everyone thought my birthday was an excuse to pinch my cheeks.
"Oh, Aslaan, look how smart you are!" Auntie Pooja said. She reached out to touch my hair like I was some untouched deity.
No. No one touched my hair.
I pulled away instinctively, but she was faster. "You're so clever for your age!" she said, pinching my cheek.
"Stop touching me," I mumbled.
Of course, she didn't hear me. No one ever heard me.