The City is a place where everything resets after the lights have gone out: relationships, conversations, memories. Everything is inside an irreversible loop and no one knows it. All except for one girl.
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Jule, a resident of the City...
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The way to school was another blunder I have to go through. At some point, I frowned and stomped my way through it with enough attitude to win me an Oscars. Now, I've dwindled down to someone who just smiles, nods, and waves at people.
First hurdle of the day was Pastor Frank. He was a middle-aged pastor that seemed to have his face frozen in a permanent smile. Every morning, he stood in front of a small, four-pronged chapel opposite my house, wearing his standard black polo shirt and slacks with a silver rectangle clipped by his collar. He waved as he greeted anyone who passed by.
Take that young woman who was probably in her later twenties. She walks her husky everyday, carrying a pink tumbler in her left hand, wearing what's supposed to be a workout outfit. Right on schedule, she's there, sashaying in her bright pink crop top and skin-tight leggings.
I kept my hand on the knob as I loitered on the porch, counting the seconds before the husky and the woman passed Pastor Frank. Five, four, three, two, one.
"Good morning! I hope you have a good day!" Pastor Frank bellowed, his deep voice reverberating across the asphalted street.
The woman stopped, drank from her water bottle, and regarded the pastor. "Thank you, Pastor," she said as if she was told to do so. "I'll see you at service this Sunday."
The pastor responded jovially with nods and vague stuttering sounds. He does that every time someone mentions attending his Sunday service that never actually happens. I counted more seconds. He's going to notice me loitering any second now.
"Jule! Off to school, are ya?" Pastor Frank called. I blew a breath and schooled my face into a tight smile.
It was loitering day today so that's what he's going to say to me. I tackled the three-step stairs down the porch, crossed the lawn in seven long strides, and came up to him across the street to talk to him properly.
"Yeah, I am," I said. "Nice morning, huh?"
I tried remembering my reply this time. Yesterday, I just gave him a cold stare and went on my way. He just shouted "God bless you. Have fun at school!"—his signature quote—that made guilt churn in my stomach.
Today, I tried making up for that choice by talking to him, at least a bit.
Pastor Frank nodded, the rectangular thing on his neck glinting in the early morning sun. "Nice morning, indeed! You should go. I hate to be the reason you have to be late."
I nodded, touched at his thoughtfulness. I hooked my thumb on the strap of my bag and took a step back, angling my body to dash out of this awkward conversation. "Yeah, I should go."
I was up towards the next house when he shouted after me, "God bless you. Have fun at school!"
I groaned.
On the way to school, I passed by a Primary School with children lining up as they were about to enter their classrooms. Parents, teachers, and school bus drivers loitered around the front as small children were ushered inside the premises. Any moment now, a small girl would be pushed over by her classmate. She would cry, causing an uproar among the parents with the bus drivers mediating.
