Reversal (Camren/Norminah)

Chapter 1: Begin Again

I.

I remember sitting cross-legged on our living room carpet. Mom insisted that we get an extra soft one, because babies were clumsy and I was especially so. I remember being thrilled the day Dad came home from whatever home furnishing outlet he frequented with an area rug from the world's most giving sheep. I would nap on it, play on it, and even have dinner on it when whichever babysitter had come back from college at the time was feeling extra giving.

It was the little things that made moving forward worth it. Memories that despite being long gone now, still existed here.

To live in a world where there was only one kind of person. What would that be like? The type that no matter the circumstance, would back up, back down, and back away. Sure, the world would be boring, but it would also be safe. No one would hurt. No mind would oppose another – and isn't there a beauty in that on it's own? I assume that a few generations in, some muscle bearing, fiery tempered hero would soar in and bring light back because of the importance of diversity. Maybe society evolves enough so that the hero ends up being a woman. Maybe the hero is a robot.

In my world there was only one type of person. In my world, there's a chance for that hero to swoop in, with his eyes of red lasers and matching cape. To take me in his arms and curl me close; to reassure me that change is never easy, but always possible. The grey skies that hover over my world would clear away, and we would stand atop the tallest cliff to watch the future unfold in the most romantic of ways.

Maybe there were complications. Maybe my world was bound tight within the confines of a leather journal, and held there by a worn spine. But paper to reality, it was very much the same to me. There was no reason why those lines couldn't be blurred, despite the ferocity of the skeptics. What harm could come from a little darkness once and a while?

Speaking of which, tonight was a night made of nothing but misery and gloom – a whole different kind of darkness. It was the night that I stepped up to the double doors of a late night café to push my way inside, and became engrossed in the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked scones. There was a new barista at the counter whom I didn't recognize; one with olive coloured skin and long dreadlocks that were lit under the glow of fluorescent light. He had a weary look on his face, and a name-tag pinned on his chest that read "Jeremy."

The rest of the café consisted of two other individuals. One was a girl with dark hair about my age, hunched over the back counter scrubbing at a pile of white ceramic teacups. The other was a brown haired boy seated in a booth, scribbling something down on a napkin. I wondered if he was one of those starved artists who wrote songs in the middle of the night. That was when the inspiration flowed the most right? When people were tired?

Putting in an order for the largest, most caffeinated cup of coffee I could, I slid a few crumpled bills soundlessly over the counter and nodded my thanks. Jeremy returned the gesture with a tall to-go cup and a small cardboard sign that read "now closed". I gave him a look, grabbing the cup, my change and a napkin before taking my leave. So much for making a new friend.

My phone rang the moment I was back outside. "I'm fine." I said, bringing the smudged receiver up to my ear. The voice on the other end was lined with so much concern it was eye-roll worthy.

"Please come back. It's two in the morning, and I know things are hard right now but I really don't think I can do this on my own."

There was a blank, wearily empty pause.

"I'm worried about you." The voice continued.

"I know." I replied, and hung up the moment the last syllable had left my lips.