Bright clouds lazily changed shapes and slowly raced across the blue sky. Gentle breeze was making music as it delicately weaved in between the trees' leaves. As a counterpoint, children's laughter in the distance came mingled with the muffled cacophony of sounds of people just making light conversation in the park.
Teenage boys are playing a pick up game in the nearby court. The sound of the ball on the warm pavement is soothing to his ears. He leaned back against the park bench and deeply inhaled the afternoon air. Smells of street food made his stomach growl but he decided to linger a little more to take in this wonderful scenery. Food will have to come later. This was filling him in more ways than any food ever will.
On any other day, this would have been a perfect picture.
His attention was caught by the old man who haltingly walked across the park towards a group of young girls seated on a nearby bench. None of the girls were talking to each other though they appeared to be a group. They all wore matching outfits and similarly accessorized cellphones. One of them stretched out her hand to take a selfie when the old man got near them.
They all looked up at the same time and he was reminded of vultures looking up as their meal gets interrupted. One angrily made a shooing gesture but the old man didn't move.
One tossed what appeared to be a penny on the ground near the old man but when he attempted to bend and get it, he suddenly put his hand on his lower back and grimaced in pain.
The girls laughed and immediately stood up, leaving the old guy holding his back while intently looking at the penny at his feet.
A young girl dressed in a jogger's outfit came and picked up the penny. As she did, her headphone slid down to her forehead. She giggled and slung the headphone on the back of her neck. She brought out a small purse and added a dollar before gently depositing it to the shaking hands of the old man. She gave him a brief hug, put the headphone back on her ears and jogged away.
The man on the bench is John. Amidst the picturesque scene, this one struck him the hardest. He stared hard as if to commit the small act of kindness to memory. Something stirred in him and he forgot his hunger for a moment. His eyes got misty and he can't, for his life, explain why.
His contemplation was interrupted by a small cough the old man made before walking away. This pulled John back to reality and he stood up to go to one of the hotdog stands lining up the sidewalk.
"Hey man, great day ain't it?" he greeted the vendor.
"Huh?" his eyes are non-committal even as John sported his best smile.
"How can you not appreciate this?" he jovially continued.
"What you want?" The guy behind the hotdog stand is obviously not in the mood for small talk.
John sighed.
"Alright…give me one dog with everything." He gave up trying to make conversation.
It has been like this with him for as long as he can remember. One look at his outfit and his unkempt hair and eyes immediately turn cold or even hostile. Not that he didn't try to wear nicer clothes and tried even harder to look like one of those corporate facsimiles milling around but the result was still the same.
So, he stopped bothering.
He looked at the vendor and noticed that his hands were having difficulty holding the spatula.
"Hey buddy…" he began and the man looked at him. The corner of one eye is twitching slightly. Not just the eye. The whole left face seemed to be twitching.
"Are you okay? I thought you might be having a heart attack. Your hand getting numb or something?"
"What are you on, guy? There's nothing wrong with me!" The vendor massaged his left cheek and true enough, it relaxed and left no trace of the slight twitching that he noticed earlier.
John took the sandwich and walked back to the bench.
The vendor definitely has health problems. He knew that as well as he knew that he beats his wife and children over the most trivial of things. He also knew that he was an aspiring MMA practitioner and that his frustration over not having enough talent to make it was the reason he beat his family.
The meager money he makes in his small business all goes to the gym and his gears. That makes the already bad situation worse. He probably thinks all will be forgiven when he finally makes it and is providing enough for them. The only problem is that he doesn't know when that will be.
John looked at the hotdog and suddenly lost his appetite. He threw it in the nearby trash bin and went back to looking at the sky. It was no longer blue. It has taken a darker tint and the clouds were also less lively if there was such a thing.
He took a battered back pack and slung it over one shoulder. He looked over the basketball court and the kids were no longer playing.
Instead, they are looking at him distrustfully while whispering to one another.
He waved at them in greeting but no one waved back. One showed him the finger while grinning humorlessly.
He sighed and started to walk away.
He fell suddenly into a hole – not a hole, a darkness that swallowed everything around him in an instant. He did not have the sensation of falling but he did lose a few seconds trying to determine if he is still standing or not. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out indistinct shapes in the distance. He tried to stomp his feet. The sound was not what he expected: not the solid thud on concrete but the clack of plastic against plastic.
He shuddered when he thought absurdly that he turned into a plastic being. He looked at his hands and rubbed his palms together. Still feels like flesh.
He let out an explosive breath.
The air around him turned electric and he can see tendrils of energy flashing for a split second and then leaving afterimages in the dark.
He tentatively extended a probing finger to the crackling bolts of miniscule lightning and he felt his whole body tingle in shock.
Low grade for sure but it still shocked him that he drew his hand fast.
Then as suddenly as they appeared, they were gone. In their place is a door. A familiar one. Not their house but a house he knew from a long time ago.
Maybe from a previous life.
He tried the doorknob. It wouldn't move at all. He knocked. The same plastic sound.
He put his ear against the door. He can feel it thrumming and felt rather than hear a buzz coming from behind it. Like conversation coming from a low-tech radio that isn't quite tuned to the right channel.
He looked at the knob again. This time, his vision magnified several times and he can now see tiny markings on the door knob. Scribbles that felt familiar but not in any language he is familiar with.
He touched these markings and they swirled and disappeared for a while but reformed when he moved his hand away.
Damn his eyes! Always showing him things like these. He cursed whoever cruel god gave him the ability to see things that brought him more confusion than understanding.
He shouted, "Tao po!"
Now why would he say that? What was that?
The people around him were startled by his shout. He is back in the park.
Only this time, his back is on the pavement. He is lying there while onlookers are huddled around him. One old lady asked, "Are you okay, sonny?"
He tried to get up but his mind reeled and he felt extremely dizzy. One old guy held his shoulders and helped him to a sitting position.
He hung his head for a while, willing for the sensation to pass.
When he looked up, his mind was steadier. He smiled at the one who asked if he is okay and gave a thumbs up, not trusting himself to speak.
Then among the crowd, he saw the girl with the headphones. Their eyes met and recognition passed between them.
"Sino ka?" the girl said. He knows it is a foreign language but he understood what she meant.
The crowd parted to let the girl come closer but she didn't move. He stood up unsteadily and met the girl's gaze.
"I know who I am but I don't think I know how to answer your real question," he hesitatingly said.
The girl beckoned and he followed, the both of them leaving the crowd behind.