ATALANA

Hiraeth

  "Ali, do you remember we used to live here?" her father mumbled as they were passing familiar buildings.
Her parents were excited to see the next apartment, and tried to get her involved in the conversation, but Ali's mind was somewhere else.
Ten years have passed, but nothing has changed, she thought as they were passing the Green Park. Instead of her and Tom, there are other kids sitting on their bench, probably discussing the latest episode of a TV show they're watching.
  "Dad, please stop the car."
  "Why," he looked back confused.
  "I want to take a walk. You can pick me up when you're done."
  "Don't you want to check that apartment with us?" her mother's tone suggested that there is only one right answer.
  Fortunately, her father was present, and being the mediator that he is, he ended the conflict before it even started. He stopped the car and let her out.

  A strong sense of melancholy gently stroke her face, and her curly black hair gave in to the wind, exposing her piercings. She walked down the street while picturing what might have been if she had stayed.
She noticed that Mr. Rogers' supermarket had turned into a local pub.
Her social media feed was filled with this young tattoo artist that works right across this street. She was on a hunt for her next adventure, as she always does whenever things get too comfortable, so maybe getting a tattoo would be a good idea after all.
  Ali was busy looking at her arm, thinking where the tattoo would fit, as some guy bumped into her. He dropped his phone along with his earphones. She kneeled to help him pick it up while he mumbled that he's sorry.
The music from his earphones was so loud, she thought for a second that it was her own phone ringing.
  "Isn't it too loud?" she asked while handing him his phone.
  "It's okay. My thoughts are louder."
He finally straightened up his gaze, and his face lit up. He recognized her.
  "TOM!" she said, realizing it's her childhood friend.
  "Ali..." he couldn't wish for a better birthday gift than to see her again, "what are you doing here?"
  "Well, my dad found a new job, and my parents are looking for a new apartment near Solarville. I asked him to stop the car once we reached this block, because I felt like taking a walk... then I bumped into you."
  "Ten years..." he mumbled, almost to himself, "how are you?"
  "I'm good, thanks. Trying to survive the finals. How are you?"
  "Also good, it's the last year of high school, so we better make the best of it."
  "How's your dad? I bet he has some crazy cool stories to tell. I have yet to meet a greater storyteller than your dad!"
  Tom awkwardly looked away, trying to signal her to drop the subject.
What's the best way to tell someone that you don't know where your dad is?
Lie.
  "Umm... he's fine."
  "and how's your mom? I'm still waiting for that apple pie recipe by the way."
  "Well, you are always welcome. I'll ask her to bake some apple pie."
  "Oh, the memories... remember how we used to play-"
  "-Heroes 3! Oh, that was so fun. Especially because you were constantly losing."
They walked to his place and kept teasing each other.
  "No, I wasn't. I was just being adventurous and actually using my archers and centaurs, while you were sitting in your castle, collecting money, and waiting for me to attack."
  "That was my tactic."
  "Yeah, but where's the fun in that?"
  "We could play again if you want, I'll download this game again. And this time I promise you, I'm going to be as adventurous as you, no more sitting in my castle and waiting for something to happen."
  "Great," she smiled.

  They were welcomed by a delicious aroma of his mom's freshly baked apple pie.
They looked at each other surprised, and Ali whispered: "It's like she knew."
  "Tom?"
  "Hi, mom. Ali's here."
  "Ali?" she asked as she was walking down the stairs.
  "Hello, Mrs. Miller, how are you?"
  Tom's mom hugged her and as they were chatting, Tom sneaked into the kitchen to grab some cake, which could have been successful if his mother weren't familiar with his impatient behavior.
  "Wait, Tom," she yelled from the living room, "I'll go get some candles so you could make a birthday wish. Don't touch the pie till I'm back."
  "My only wish is to eat that pie; you can forget the candles."
But she was already gone. Ali showed up in the kitchen and hit him.