Masked Purpose

Chapter Three

It felt like I was floating.

My thin physique stirred around with the consistency of jello, transforming my limbs from functioning body parts into mushy bulks of skin and bones. My own senses deceived me. Evidently, I was unable to separate fantasy from reality judging by my unawareness of an unknown hand placed on my shoulder.

The sensation was short lived, however. It was as if I had been secured in my private, individual bubble and the air had steadily decreased as time progressed. My vision became clear in intervals, beginning with my peripheral and working inwards. Simultaneously, hearing and touch manifested into their proper, working forms.

The elderly woman yelling at me jolted me like an activated defibrillator.

Her accent was almost unrecognizable as she vehemently wagged her pointer finger in my vicinity. I interpreted her anger to be a mix of frustration and impatience as I rose from my lowered position on the carpeted floor. Another insistent, high pitched interrogation was all it took to drive me out of the soon-to-be-open lounge.

I called Stella as soon as I stepped outside. The bitter November air cut against my cheeks like glass, which earned a shiver on my behalf.

"Stella, where the hell are you?!"

"I'm at home. Those assholes kicked me out last night completely disregarding my pleas to bring you with me." Her tone was sincere and apologetic, which eased my irritable attitude for the time being. "Are you alright? Where are you?"

"I'm a block from the lounge." The sudden gush of wind pierced the area just above my temple. I hadn't realized the open wound that had been festering overnight. "Shit."

"What just happened?"

"Nothing. I'll be home in half an hour." I hung up the phone immediately changing my course.

In that time frame, I managed to retrieve the appropriate materials needed for my injury and encounter an unintended revelation.

It happened on my way back.

A group of men of multiple ethnicities dressed in fancy suits stood in a circle at the corner of a one-way street. Music played in the center as they free styled to the beat, freely expressing themselves to whatever degree they felt necessary.

I conjectured this scene to disprove the common belief held by our committee that absolute unity cannot be achieved. Their different personalities converged into one active unit when they voiced their lyrics. You could see the strong bond they possessed in each other's body language. All shared the same passion for the same activity with the same level of intensity.

Nothing is more unified than that.

Mail envelopes spread all across the living room floor greeted me upon my return home. Stella was attempting to sort through the pile of forgotten letters, bills, and miscellaneous files by name and order of importance.

"Hey. These are yours." I noticed her eyeliner was darker and thicker than usual, but decided not to comment due to the distressed evening we both endured. I gave a swift nod of acknowledgment before crouching down beside her.

"When was the last time we checked this?"

"Who the hell knows." Our laughter was much needed on both ends.

After minutes of endless organizing, Stella came across an unusual envelope intended for me. The first thing that caught my attention was the color difference; it was a dark shade of blue instead of the traditional white. Another sign of suspicion was the unfamiliar symbol placed on the front with no title attached.

"What is it?" Stella's curiosity greatly matched mine.

I took a couple seconds to scan over its contents. "A college scouting letter."

Both of our faces maintained a confused countenance. "To where?"

"I don't know. It only has this funky symbol."

All she thought to reply with was "Oh".

The task at hand consumed us for the next three hours. Our procrastination prolonged the activity, but nevertheless, the pile indeed dwindled down to a reasonable size.

My mind, however, lingered over one particular piece of paper well after we retreated to our respective rooms.

Something felt odd about the entire ordeal. I examined the letter as best I could and yet no connection emerged.

A lot of peculiar things have happened in my life, a lot of enigmatic dreams and events.

I wouldn't be surprised if this was just another notch in my belt of abnormality.